


Promise Me You Won't Disappear

by Brencon



Category: Love Simon (2018), Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda - Becky Albertalli
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-05-04 05:46:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14586276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brencon/pseuds/Brencon
Summary: Martin has outed Simon to the school, to the universe, to possibly Blue? And it's such a god awful time for this BS to be happening. It's freaking Christmas. But it's out there. So Simon does what any self-respecting outed kid does: He hides from his family and friends and dog and listens to the Great Depression.





	1. All We Do Is Hide Away

What a fucking break.

Honestly, what a shit-show of a Christmas it was:

  1. Martin “Monkeys Asshole” Addison outed me. On that god-awful blog, of all places.
  2. I come out to my family, before they hear it from anyone else, and my dad goes all weird and distant and we haven’t spoken in days.
  3. Blue is still away at his dad’s cabin in the middle of nowhere. So no cell service, no Wi-Fi, no communication with the outside world.



The only upside is that he (hopefully) still hasn’t seen the post, and will read my emails first before responding. That we’ve gotten close enough in the past four months that he won’t run away. That he won’t disappear.

It’s New Years Day, a day for new beginnings and throwing off the badness of days gone by. And yet I’m hiding in my bed, the blind pulled down as it will go, the floor a mess of clothes that still haven’t made it to the wash basket, and the Great Depression is the only sound breaking the deadly silence of the room. The door is firmly shut, but you can still hear Bieber whining in the hallway.

The playlist isn’t actually called the Great Depression, that’s the just the title that Nora has given it after she’s heard it one too many times through the walls of our home. So, of course, that’s what I’ve titled the playlist on Spotify.

And it’s not just depressing tracks. It mostly is, but it’s broken up with some songs so full of hope I can barely imagine how the artists got to such a better place.

Nothing seems better than this deep, dark hole I’ve placed myself in.

We have two days before school starts again. The post was removed from the blog as of last night, but it was active, it was viewable for almost a week. Everyone will know.

Like I said, I’m in a hole in the world, and I sorta don’t want to leave it. Ever again. I don’t want to because, to add to my list, my friends have not responded to any of my messages since last night. Not that I’ve been chasing them since the post went live, but it was nice knowing they were there for me, to stand by me. But the radio silence is deafening.

I grab my laptop, trying to distract myself from the tears that keep threatening to fall. I turn up the volume then open the browser and check my Gmail. Still no new emails; still no Blue. I put the laptop at the base of my bed, punch out my pillows to make it more comfortable to lie against and let my eyes drift shut as I lay back and let lyrics wash over me.

 _All we do is hide away._  
_All we do is, all we do is hide away._  
_All we do is chase the day._  
_All we do is, all we do is chase the day._

_\------------------------------------------------------_

Its 5 am, still pitch black with only a hint of the moon through the heavy cloud cover. I grab Bieber’s leash from the hall-stand and quietly call him to me.

I can’t sleep, my head too full noise to let me slip off into dreamless slumber. So I think walking Bieber will help. Sure, its 5am and no sane 17 year old would be up at this hour the day before school starts. And yet here I am. I think I’m allowed to break the stereotype. It isn’t like I’ve been living it until now.

Bieber’s eager to get going. We head out on our usual path and before I know it, we’re passing Nick and Leah’s houses. The lights are out in both homes. Of course they are. They’re still normal.

I take a deep breath. Bieber automatically detour’s to walking up the driveway to Leah’s. I fight him for control and we continue our way. I lose myself in the morning quiet. The freshness of the day feels like a relief. Like it’s all new.

We’re walking back through the front door just after six thirty and the kitchen lights are on, the percolator burbling away over the early morning news that’s barely audible.

I free Bieber, who rushes through the living room to his bed by the fireplace. I sigh, feeling my shoulders rise like a defensive wall. I would go back to my room, to wallow some more. But I can’t. Not another day of it. I sigh again as move towards the kitchen, trying to release the ever present tension.

My mom is leaning against the island, her bedhead tied up in a bun, her glasses right on the edge of her nose as she scrolls through her iPad.

I clear my throat, the universal ‘Hi, I’m here but too awkward to say anthing’ noise.

She smiles at me over the rim of her glasses, the lines at the corner of her eyes more noticeable from the lack of sleep. I guess I’m not the only one struggling of late.

“Good morning Si. How are you?” She asks, locking her iPad and placing it on the counter top. Her voice just has the hint of what I guess is her therapist tone and I sigh again, rubbing at face. I wish I could be honest about all that’s happened. But do I have to be? I told her my biggest secret. I came out to her. Isn’t that enough for right now?

“I’m okay. Couldn’t really sleep, so I took Bieb’s out for a walk. For such a tiny dog, he’s so demanding.” I respond, internally cringing at the BS I’ve just spewed. What the hell kind of response was that?

“It’s because he’s missed you, honey. We all know you’re his favorite human.” Mom replies, a small smile teasing her lips. She blinks twice, as if waiting for me to add something. Instead, I open the fridge and take out the milk for the coffee that has just finished percolating.

Mom grabs two mugs from the cabinet about the coffee maker, a Harry Potter reveal cup (just add hot water and the freaking Marauder’s Map appears) and a ‘World’s Best Mom’ cup that Nora made sometime between the ages of 4 and 7.

She pours coffee into both mugs and passes mine to me. I pour the milk in, and stir. I know, I’m usually an iced coffee type of guy, but with the level of sleep I’ve not been having, I’ll take my caffeine fix in any format.

The menial task over, the silence stretches between us. The weather forecast and Bieber’s snoring are all that can be heard. I take a drink, more for something to do than anything else.

And mom is still watching me. Analyzing me.

“Simon. You can talk to me, about anything. Okay? I’m here. When you’re ready, I am here.” She states. Her tone is definitely a cross between mom and therapist, the trade off between both hats she wears identifiable in how she pronounces some words.

I take a deep breath, watching the coffee settle in the mug again. I’ve cried far too much in the past 7 days. Far too much. I don’t let myself fall apart. I won’t.

“Thanks,” I whisper and I failed at falling.

I turn on my heel, not even looking at her. I can feel her eye’s boring into me as I trail my way slowly to my room, careful on the stairs not to trip over my feet or the actual stairs. As quietly as possible, I re-enter my room. I place the mug on my desk, toe off my shoes and sit in my desk chair.

It’s too early for music, even the Great Depression, so settle for watching dog vine compilations on YouTube and not checking my emails.

I’m on my 6th compilation when I realize my coffee cup is empty. It’s some time after 7am now. I grab my backpack, deciding that throwing myself into the finalizing my homework would be a solid activity to do before the big return in the morning.

I only have my English and Calculus work left to complete. Becoming a self-enforced shut-in is actual amazing for educational purposes. Not that I’d ever recommend it. I decide on my calc work, closing my laptop down pushing it further down the desktop so as I can work on my math problem.

I lose all sense of time and when I come to the conclusion of the work, it’s already 9am and the sun has risen. There’s conversation drifting up from the kitchen and I can smell the sweet scent of another Nora Spier masterpiece. It’s calling me out of my den. I pack away my calculus work and leave the English work out on the desktop when I return. I stand, stretch and groan as more tension in my lower back is released.

Empty coffee mug in hand, I venture back downstairs to find Dad sitting at the table, glass of orange juice in one hand a croissant in the other.

“Morning Simon,” Nora smiles at me, sieving more sugar onto this morning’s baking triumph.

“Morning NoNo,” I softly reply, sounding more tired than I expected. I make myself a fresh cup of coffee and grab two croissants before sitting at the table. Dad’s face is hidden behind the morning paper and I just don’t know what to say.

I tentatively bite into the first croissant and moan with happiness as the sweet, buttery goodness that is now in my mouth. I turn to tell Nora how amazing they are but remember my mouth is full of pastry.

I chew and swallow, making sure no crumbs are going to fly out. “This is stunning Nora!” I tell her, smiling brightly at her as I take another huge bite.

She smiles shyly at me, before shaking her, “they’re just not flaking enough. Maybe I didn’t add enough butter?” She asks herself.

The crinkling of the paper draws my attention back to my dad. He’s placed the paper on the table top and crossed his arms over it.

“Nora, the croissants are as good as the ones we got in Paris! Stop looking for faults, sweetheart,” He punches the air, like a player made winning touchdown or ran a homer.

I nod my head at his analogy. Even if things are weird, Nora is still an amazing cook that deserves all the praise. I glance back at my dad to find him watching me, studying me. But once he catches my eyes, he’s lifting and unfolding the paper and muttering to himself about the answer to number 15 down in this morning’s crossword.

I sigh, take an overly large bite out of my second croissant and count slowly backwards from 20 in my head, the mantra of ‘You will not cry. You will not cry,’ on repeat.

Breakfast finished, I return to my room, grab my copy of the reading we are supposed to have to completed by tomorrow and flop onto my bed. But it’s white guy shiterature and it doesn’t hold my attention for more than 20 minutes. And I don’t even realize I have my phone out, that I’m checking my emails until I notice the notification.

**One new email from bluegreen118@gmail.com**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Firstly, I have to say I love both versions of canon (read/listened to book so many times I've lost count and saw the film 5 times in the space of 3 weeks) but I had this idea in the back of my head that I couldn't shake, and here we are.
> 
> Also, I've not written anything in about 7 years now, so please be gentle. Any typos or non-American terminology, let me know!
> 
> Track Used - All We Do - Oh Wonder <3


	2. You Must Like Me for Me

**Chapter 2: You Must Like Me for Me**

The fear, the freaking fear. Holy crap. Blue’s responded.

I feel like I can’t breathe. I need to read the email, but I’m terrified he’s saying goodbye. Like’s done with me, since we’ve been outed, well since I’ve been outed. He’s still safe. Hidden.

My last email, after Monkeys Asshole had shared the screenshots of my emails, was me begging, pleading, that he wouldn’t disappear, that he wouldn’t leave me on my own in this brave new world.

My hands are shaking, my heart drumming in my chest, as I open the email.

 

> _From: bluegreen118@gmail.com_
> 
> _To: frommywindow1@gmail.com_
> 
> _Date: January 2 nd 9:09am_
> 
> _Subject: _I’m in this for the long haul__
> 
> _Simon,_
> 
> _I’ve started this email so many times, I’ve lost count._
> 
> _I am so sorry that this has happened to you. I cannot believe someone did that to you. Do you know who it is?_
> 
> _I have to be honest; I read through your email a number of times, trying to not throw up. I honestly thought the worst had happened, that you’d suffered an extreme accident or that you weren’t even a Creekwood High student. Infinite possibilities ran through my mind._
> 
> _And then I saw the blog post._
> 
> _I am so sorry. I don’t know how you’re coping, because I feel I would be a complete mess. Are you alright? I’m also sorry I’m only responding now. We’ve left the cabin in the woods and heading back to civilisation, so I finally have cell service again._
> 
> _I know it’s only words on a screen, but I’m here for you Simon. I’m not going to vanish. I hope that’s enough._
> 
> _I’m also sorry, but I can’t come out. Not yet. I just hope that you can last out for me. I’m just not ready for anyone to know the real me._
> 
> _Finally: Jacques a dit? I’m impressed. An inspired superhero/secret identity name._
> 
> _Love, Blue._
> 
> _P.S. Sorry for all the “sorry’s”. Do you ever have the fear that if you say/use a word too often, it loses all of its meaning? That’s the position I find myself with a certain word._
> 
> _P.P.S. After sharing the Halloween version with me back in October, please find attached a helping of the Winter Oreos. May cookies help ease the pain._

My breath hitches and I hiccough. He’s not sick of me, he’s not disgusted! He’s in this for the long haul. He’s still with me.

The screen on my phone is getting blurrier and obscured and that’s how I realize I’m crying.

Great sobs shatter the mornings silence in my room. My phone falls from my hand to the bed and the pain of the last few days just escapes in the soul shattering outburst of emotion.

I’ve cried so much this break that it’s insane. And here I am again.

He’s not going away. He hasn’t run away. He’s in this for the long haul! Maybe Blue actually likes me?

I let the joy of that though relieve some of the pain that I’ve been holding since Christmas Eve. It’s a starting point. There is so much to work through, to figure out and actualize upon. God, Mom’s terminology has really crept into my brain.

I giggle a stupid laugh at the ridiculousness of me using that word and it helps. I wipe at my face with the sleeves of hoodie and take slow, even breathes. Taking my phone from its landing place I hit reply and start my email.

 

> _From:_ _frommywindow1@gmail.com_
> 
> _To:_ _bluegreen118@gmail.com_
> 
> _Date: January 2 nd 9:24am_
> 
> _Subject: RE: I’m in this for the long haul._
> 
> _Blue,_
> 
> _You have absolutely no idea how much of a relief it was, seeing that notification on my screen. Not even the email itself, just the notification._
> 
> _Well, relief after the sheer panic of what you would think of me. Because I’ve been wrecked with the guilt of letting some asshole take screenshots of our emails._
> 
> _But knowing that you’re still with me, still writing back, still even just wanting to write back? Major, giggle inducing joy._
> 
> _Thank you for the Winter Oreos, a welcome source of a sugar high on this otherwise weirdest week of my life._
> 
> _You’ll never guess how pleased I was with myself for coming up with my secret identity. It all started with a family trip to France a few years back. My mom kept calling me Jacques after this Parisian taxi driver explained the whole Jacques a dit thing to us, even after the guy told us Jacques is the French version of James, not Simon. Parents, am I right? Anyways, it’s sorta a pet name that only my mom calls me. But I like it. It’s a thing that only we have. Do you and your folks have anything like that? That’s only you and them?_
> 
> _Speaking of your folks; how was the cabin in the woods? And the fishing? Much biting in the lake? (Yes, I did use the magical Google to come up those fishing-related terms)_
> 
> _I’d like the distraction, as well as hearing how the holidays went for the part Jewish grammar nerd please._
> 
> _Love, Simon._

I read through my email, checking for grammatical mistakes, cringe-y comments or anything that could send him running for the hills. I check it again. Pleased with the mail, I take a breath and press send.

It’s actually like a weight has been lifted. I roll my head and the tension in my neck and shoulders is gone. It’s a different feeling than I’d been expecting.

In a more upbeat mood, I decide to let my homework slide for a few more hours. I need music, something uplifting and happier.

I scroll through my many playlists and select one that I’ve just named ‘Bops’ and press shuffle.

_This ain't for the best_  
_My reputation's never been worse, so_  
 _You must like me for me_  
 _We can't make_  
 _Any promises now, can we, babe?_  
 _But you can make me a drink_

* * *

It’s nearing 3 in the afternoon when I text Nick, Leah and Abby to ask how their Christmas and New Years went, and if we’re still on for me giving them a lift to school in the morning.

I’ve finally finished the reading for Mr. Wise and I’m ready for any and all inevitable questions or assignments he will throw at us when we’re back.

Blue and I have emailed a few more times today, since our early morning conversation. He’s probably on the road back to town at the moment.

It’s been 5 minutes and still no response from my friends. I check the message and I see that they’ve all left me on read. Before, I thought they were just giving me space, letting me get through the holidays with my family. But now I can’t help but wonder.

“No,” I whisper to myself. I told Abby weeks ago, and she was still talking to me before the outing. It can’t be the gay thing.

I shake my head. My friend’s aren’t stupid. We share freaking AP classes. They must’ve talked at some point since school finished up. They must’ve put it all together.

I try calling Leah instantly. I have no idea what I’m gonna say, but I need my firends. After the third ring, the call is sent to voicemail. And I’m crying again. Did I mention I’ve been crying a lot? It’s like someone left a tap running and it’s just a different level of pressure, depending on what day of the week it is.

It’s not like the heart-wrenching tears of when I realised my secret was out for all to see. It’s not even the sadness of realising that Martin was blackmailing. It’s nothing like the tears of fear that Blue was going to disappear on me.

This is something much, much worse. My friends aren’t talking to me. My friends are actively avoiding me.

I grab a pillow and feel myself automatically curling around it. My chest hurts with the aching sobbing that are thrashing me.

I don’t even realise that I’m not alone anymore until I smell my mom’s shampoo and perfume washing over me. She’s pulling me from my foetal position to her chest, my head resting over her shoulder as and she’s holding me so tightly, like she’s afraid that I’ll slip away between her arms.

And I’m so freaking glad she ignored how standoff-ish I’ve been. Because I needed this. I need my mom. Not Emily Spier, the therapist, I need my mom. And I sob even louder as I release everything I’ve been feeling since I realised I was gay. And it’s just an avalanche of emotion. I try speaking, but mom just shushes me and I squeeze her in thanks. “Let it out son. Let it all out,” she whispers to me, kissing the top of my head, “My boy.”

We stay like that for I don’t know how long. Just my mom and me, squeezing each other tightly in the centre of my bed. I must’ve cried myself to sleep, because when I wake up its dark out and I have my Hogwarts crest blanket thrown over me, my head resting on my mom’s lap as she cards her fingers through my hair.

* * *

 

I blink a few times, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I move to sit up. I clear my throat, clearing the heaviness of the soul-releasing sobs I just had.

“What time is it?” My voices cracks as I ask, and I shake my head.

“A little after 5. You dad and Nora have gone out for tacos for dinner tonight. I told them we needed some bonding time. Nora had made a bunch of donuts for dessert, but I thought I could order us pizza for dinner first?” Mom explains, resting her hand on my back and rubbing soothing circles.

I nod my head and then speak up. “Pizza sounds great. As long as no-“ “As long as there’s no pineapple, I know. But that also means no peppers.”

A compromise I can deal with.

“Works for me,” I turn and smile at her. I get to my feet, heading towards my closet. Grabbing some fresh clothes, I turn to face my mom.

“Meet you in the kitchen in 15? I’m just gonna grab a shower... I feel all funky, need to freshen up.” I twist my toes in the carpet as I look to anything and everything but her face.

“Sounds good to me, Si. I’ll order that pizza.” She stands up, turning and brushing the creases from the bed clothes, grabs the blanket and folds it before placing it at the bottom of my bed, “I’ll see you downstairs.”

She crosses the room, stopping beside me and giving my arm a squeeze before continuing out of the room and down the stairs.

I sigh again, before making my way to the bathroom. I lock the door behind me, dropping my clean clothes away from the shower. I turn the water to as hot as I can stand and strip outta the clothes I was crying in. Steam begins to fill the room and I climb into the shower.

I stand beneath the stream, letting the hot water freshen me up. It’s soothing, like washing away the stress of the day. And yet I know I need someone to listen, a shoulder to cry on. And I can’t dump it all on Blue. And she did offer.

After ten minutes, I’m outta the shower feeling more human than I have in weeks, and I’m just about finished getting dressed. I take a quick look at myself in the mirror and notice the tear streaks are gone from cheeks. I take a couple of steadying breaths before unlocking the door and making my way downstairs.

Mom is at the island, two glasses before her filled with ice water. She smiles at me with such affection that I make the decision. I’m gonna tell her everything.

“Can we talk?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music Choice: Delicate - Taylor Swift (This song actually gave me the inspiration for this fic)


	3. I Am Here In My Mold

**Chapter 3: I Am Here In My Mold**

Why is this so terrifying?

I mean, I told her my biggest secret a few days ago. And after the hysterical sob-fest that happened in my room not 20 minutes ago, what’s the issue of telling her all? Every single, shitty thing that’s happened since Monkey’s Asshole read my emails.

She’s watching me, this soft smile on her face as she lifts her ice water and takes a sip.

I cough, shaking my damp hair off my forehead.

“I... um... Jesus, why is this so hard?” I blow out all the air from my lungs, a nervous laugh coming through.

“Take your time, Si. No rush here. I’m not going anywhere,” Mom answers the hypothetical question, and there’s that therapist tone that I know and despise. Well, not despise. Maybe.

“Right... OK. So it all started with this post online from another closeted kid, Blue, and it was so poetic and I felt like he was speaking to me. So I sent him an email, anonymously. And he responded. And we talked about anything and everything. But still without the details,” I smile, thinking about him, my Blue. I get butterflies just thinking about him.

“And then came a day in October. I’d emailed him before heading to school. And I couldn’t wait till I was out of rehearsals to see if he’d responded. Did you know that Creekwood High blocks cell signals? So, I went to the library, ‘cause I’m an idiot. I was checking my emails on a school computer, sending a response to Blue. I’d just clicked send when Mr. Worth wandered up to the work station I was at. And then the warning bell rang, and I must’ve forgotten to logout.”

Up to that point in my story, Mom has been looking me at me like I’m telling this great love story, and... okay, so maybe I think I was too. Anyways, when I get to the logout moment of tonight’s telling, she audibly gasps and her hand comes to cover her mouth.

“Oh Simon...” she whispers, and I shrug, “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

And so I continue with the story, of Oreos and Hallow-weiners and the blackmail and the sick feeling in my stomach and the vomit on my shoes; of the karaoke and mixed signals and the lies; of the guilt and the horror and the going big or going home.

I take a few breaths to steady my nerves. How has the pizza not arrived yet? It feels like I’ve been spilling my guts forever.

“And now they aren’t talking to me. And that’s fine, everyone needs some time. But after just being outed, it feels like it’s hell on earth at the moment.”

Mom takes her glasses off and places the between us on the table and I didn’t even realise we’d both sat down, “So this afternoon’s mome-,” “Meltdown, you can call it what it was,” Mom barks a laugh and continues, “Moment, that was the culmination of all the stress you’ve been under for the past few months?”

I nod my head, because no more words do I have. I think I covered my story pretty freaking clearly.

“Are we sure it’s only from strain of the last few months?” She asks, a hint of the therapist tone creeping into her words once more.

I look up at her, confusion apparently written all over my face by what she says next.

“I knew you had a secret, these last few years. Like the weight of the world was resting on your shoulders.”

My mantra from this morning comes to mind again, ‘You Will Not Cry. You Will Not Cry.’ - god, I’m nearly done with all these emotions.

“A few days ago you told me, ‘Mom, I’m still me.’ I need you to hear this. You are still you, Jacques. You are still the same son I love to tease and who your father depends on for just about everything! But you get to exhale now Simon. You get to be more you than you have been in a very long time,” her voice catches, and she laughs, all light and soft and I’m back to being an 11 year old kid and watching Mom and Nora playing with baby Bieber in the back yard.

“You deserve everything you want.”

I smile, fighting back the tears again. And I’m so freaking glad we ordered food, because it’s at that moment that the knock at the door comes. Mom dabs at the corner of her eyes and I can’t help but laught.

“And I thought dad was the emotional mess in our family,“ Mom laughs, getting up from her seat and standing behind me for a second before hugging me. I wrap my arms around hers and just breathe. I feel a kiss, as light as feather, land on my hair again.

“I’ll get dinner, you get the paper plates and napkins?” Mom asks, releasing me from her hug and grabbing her purse.

* * *

We fought over the last slice of pizza, resorting to rock, paper, scissors. And mom won, but she still gave me the last slice because apparently I’m still a ‘growing boy’.

Once we finish, mom just sat up for a while, moving a piece of crust across the plate. I finish my water and grab a can of soda from fridge.

A moment later, she stands and starts clearing and cleaning the table. The paper plates and the pizza box are shaken over the trash, and then thrown into the recycling bin.

She refills her water and returns to the table, this time sitting across from me rather than beside me.

“Simon, I’m sorry you had to go through all that alone. You may have had this email penpal, this boy Blue, but he still lives on the internet. I wish you had felt safe enough to talk to us. Not just because you’re our son. I’m... I’m sorry you felt so alone.”

I think I’m finally all cried out. My mantra wasn’t even needed too. I just smile across the table top, feeling all the love I have for my wonderful family warm my heart.

“I wish I had been able to, too. But I guess the Coming Out Thing is just a kind of rite of passage for every gay teen? I dunno. I’m glad I got to come out to you and Dad in my own words. Even if I was terrified of both of your reactions...”

Mom sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“I’m sorry for your father’s reaction. It’s definitely nothing to do with your gay, even with his silly joke. I think he’s just worried. He still hasn’t spoken to me about it. But give it time. He’s... he’s reassessing who you are in his mind’s eye.”

I swallow the lump in my throat and nod quickly.

And that’s how the evening with my mom ends. I head back to my room after another strong hug that warms me to my bones. I’m back at my desk, loading up my laptop.

I have a new email. From Blue. The excitement in my stomach is exhilarating.

 

> _From: bluegreen118@gmail.com_
> 
> _To: frommywindow1@gmail.com_
> 
> _Date: January 2 nd 7:08pm_
> 
> _Subject: This Way Up_
> 
> _Dear Simon,_
> 
> _I’m currently packing my bag, with all of the Christmas gifts that I’ve received from my stepmother’s family; did I tell you that Mr. Sexual Awakening appeared during the trip, and that he bought me a model/statue of The Flash? It’s still in it’s protective wrapping and case and I’m still terrified it’s gonna fall and shatter into a million pieces_
> 
> _I’m ready to hit the road home after the holidays I wish I was leaving tonight, rather than tomorrow because my stepmother has terrified me no end with her description of what it is going to be like to feel Little Foetus kick, turn and stretch from the inside, and this is after showing me the 3D Sonogram._
> 
> _The only word to describe it is terrifying._
> 
> _How has your day gone? Any news from the homeland?_
> 
> _So, I’m glad to be coming home, getting back into the routine of school and studying and homework. And I’ve been thinking. I may not be ready to come out to the whole student populace of Creekwood High, but I’m ready to come out to you._
> 
> _I want you to know me Simon. The real, physical, in real life me. So, I’m going to leave you some clues._
> 
> _The hints might not be obvious but you’ll know it’s a clue from me._
> 
> _Well, all except the first one, which you can find in this email._
> 
> _I share my name with a former President of these United States._
> 
> _So..._
> 
> _Happy hunting._
> 
> _Love,_
> 
> _Blue._
> 
>  

Oh my freaking God. He’s coming out to me. Playing it as a game to me.

I love this. I love a mystery.

I spend the next twenty minutes listing out the guys in school who share a presidential name.

It’s a long list, but manageable. Especially when I know that he’s going to be giving me more clues. More things to theorize. More people to wonder about.

I leave my list alone and return to his email, reading through each word again as my response starts to form in my head.

 

> _From: frommywindow1@gmail.com_
> 
> _To: bluegreen118@gmail.com_
> 
> _Date: January 2 nd 7:48pm_
> 
> _Subject: Re: This Way Up_
> 
> _Dear Blue,_
> 
> _How big is this statue? Are we talking an impressive size? I’ll be honest, I’ve only seen the TV show a couple of times, but the character seems like one I could get talked into watching._
> 
> _I remember hearing the actual sounds my mom made when she was pregnant with my baby sister. Any time Nora got a lucky rib kick, mom would practically launch herself out of her spot on the couch. So I can totally understand the need to get away from it as soon as possible._
> 
> _My only news is that I finally finished all of the assigned homework, all set to face off against any challenge Mr. Wise can cook up. And I may have had a minor breakdown and told my mom everything that’s happened in the past 5 months._
> 
> _She was the perfect should to cry on and I’m all the better for it. It felt incredible to get it all out._
> 
> _Now for the big thing. The Coming Out Thing._
> 
> _Blue, you don’t know how excited I am. I do love a good mystery to solve. And this is gonna be the best possible mystery to solve. Finding out who you are. I mean, I feel like I know you inside and out already, but to know who you are? That’s going to be freaking amazing._
> 
> _So I’ve made a huge list of guys in school who share a name with a President. And there’s a couple I really don’t want you to be, but I already don’t think you are them. So there’s that._
> 
> _I cannot wait to receive the next clue. It’s gonna be so interesting, finding out these real life details about you._
> 
> _And I’m so glad that you can trust me enough to tell me who you are. I can’t wait to know who you are._
> 
> _Love,_
> 
> _Simon._
> 
>  

I proof read the email only 5 times this time before I click send. And off goes the missive to my future boyfriend... hopefully.

I put my laptop to sleep and stand up, stretching my arms far above my head.

I decide on a vinyl and start it playing as i relax back onto my bed. Bieber pushes the door open and launches himself up onto my bed. I cuddle him to my chest and give him a scratch behind the ears.

“Hey Bieber, how are you doing? Are you good?” I quietly ask the pooch, smiling as he starts wagging his tail back and forth with almost lightning speed.

He pushes his face into my chest and practically flops onto his side as I continue to give him scratches.

And as the music swells and the moon light shines through my window I think that things may be, ever so slightly, getting better.

_No change, I can't change, I can't change, I can't change,_  
_but I'm here in my mold, I am here in my mold._  
_But I'm a million different people from one day to the next_  
_I can't change my mold, no, no, no, no, no, no, no_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, the Windows 10 update sorta ruined my system and I had to do a total reset.
> 
> Track Used: Bitter Sweet Symphony - The Verve
> 
> Also, Emily's speech was so perfect from the movie that I couldn't not use it for this story.


	4. I Break Down Slow

**Chapter 4: I Break Down Slow**

I’m in bed early that night, but I hear Dad and Nora come in a little after 8pm. I don’t get up and hang out with them like I would usually, I just need to decompress after the emotional rollercoaster that was today and I couldn’t deal with the awkwardness of another interaction with my dad.

I’m lying under my covers, Bieber asleep at my feet atop of the covers and my Bops playlist is playing out of the speakers around the bed.

I’m nearly falling asleep when my phone buzzes once more and I’m instantly awake again.

 

> _From:_ _bluegreen118@gmail.com_
> 
> _To:_ _frommywindow1@gmail.com_
> 
> _Date: January 2_ _nd_ _10:16pm_
> 
> _Subject: May The Odds Be Ever In Your Favour_
> 
> _Simon,_
> 
> _Sorry the late email, my stepmom had so many family turn up tonight that I ended up acting as a waiter for the evening. Her mother is, and I hate using this phrase, extra. Everything is a dramatic moment to her._
> 
> _The statue is about the size of normal bust you would find in a museum and so heavy. Thank god I’m driving home tomorrow otherwise I would need to book another seat for it, because it would definitely not be put into hold or in the overhead cabin. So I’ll be belting it up in the back seat tomorrow. Add to that all the pregnancy talk, it’s been a bizarre evening._
> 
> _I’m glad you were able to talk to your mom about the last few months. I’m assuming there’s more to the story of your being outed. I hope, once we’ve talked face to face, you’ll be able to broach the whole topic with me._
> 
> _A long list? I shouldn’t really be surprised, there have been a few Presidents of this Republic, if I am honest. But I hope with further clues your list will narrow accordingly._
> 
> _Finally, of course I can trust you with this secret. You’ve... well, I wasn’t planning this but here we go anyway. You have been my crush since the first time I saw you in freshman year, Simon Spier. You’re the epitome of my dream guy._
> 
> _On a last note, this has been such a bizarre trip: the fishing trip to the cabin in the middle of nowhere, all of my stepmothers family and all the baby talk. Is it strange that I want the normality of homework, testing and early starts back as soon as possible? Which leads me to the subject line. I don’t know how school is going to be for you tomorrow I truly wish I was there to help you out, but I’ll arriving home in Shady Creek at lunchtime. So, as Katniss was told, so I tell you. And if it does get too much, know that I’m here, just an email away._
> 
> _Love,_
> 
> _Blue._

I can’t fight off the bright smile that takes over my face. He’s had a crush on me since freshman year? _Freshman_ year? That’s insane. I was still dating girls in freshman year.

But I can’t focus on just that, I have a lot to process with his latest email.

Because I haven’t even thought of the reaction of the whole school, only how my friends and family would take the news. I sorta still don’t want to take in the reaction from the other kids. I just know, from what I’ve seen with how Ethan is treated, that it is gonna be hellish. Add to the fact that my friends are kinda ghosting me? I just want to get the first day over and done with.

 

> _From: frommywindow1@gmail.com_
> 
> _To: bluegreen118@gmail.com_
> 
> _Date: January 2 nd 10:21pm_
> 
> _Subject: RE: May The Odds Be Ever In Your Favor_
> 
> _I thought ‘extra’ was only a descriptive word for us Millennials? But dramatic is just so the norm that extra works too. Glad you survived the trauma._
> 
> _Wow, so a proper piece of gifting then! Nice. Make sure to barricade it into it’s seat with barriers on either side too, maybe?_
> 
> _Freaking freshman year?! Seriously Blue! Freshman year?! I’m shook, if I’m honest. Totally pleased to hear it, but shook. Which makes me wonder, is it possible to fall for someone via email? Or were you just hoping that Jacques was me? Not that I have a problem with either answer!_
> 
> _I was wondering what the quote meant... and thanks. Honestly, I just want the first day, the first week back done and dusted and get all the awkwardness out of the way. I’m just gonna throw myself into rehearsals and the play and homework and talking to you. You receiving top-billing, of course._
> 
> _And I should probably end this email here, because unlike you, I do actually have to go to school in the morning._
> 
> _So, goodnight Blue._
> 
> _Love,_
> 
> _Simon._

 I close the apps, lock my phone and shove it under my pillow. I sigh again as I try to get back into that cozy, comfy feeling and drift off to sleep.

And when I do slip into slumber, it’s to the thought that Blue actually likes me and has for years.

* * *

I actually sleep in, even with the too many alarms I have set for myself. After having such issues with sleeping during the holidays, you’d think I’d wake up at the right time. But no, my body decides this morning is the perfect time to catch up on those missed hours of sleep.

So I’m rushing through the morning routine, barely having time to shower before I’m getting downstairs. I feel all sullen and dark as I head into the kitchen, already with my school bag hanging off my shoulder.

Nora hands me a breakfast burrito and I sadly tell her thanks. Mom tries to get me to sit with them for the meal but I mumble that I’m gonna be late and head out the door.

I have half the burrito eaten when I hear the door open behind me and Mom rushing to me. She grabs me in this momma bear hug and I’m actually so so grateful. After our talk yesterday, I feel better with everything. Well, now I’m just lying to myself.

“Si, I really wish you’d let me talk to the principal about what that boy has done to you. It’s supposed to be a safe school, more tolerant. But what that boy did.... it’s beyond belief.”

I sigh heavily, my face still buried in her shoulder. “Mom, I just want to move past all that bullshit with Martin. Get back to being me. The proper me,” I finish. She doesn’t comment on the swearing, and a small part of me wonders how long I can get away with it before she’ll start calling me out on swearing in front of her again. “I just want to get through this day and then everything will be better.”

She gives me this look of contrition and then a fierceness takes hold of her very being.

“If anyone says anything to you, absolutely anything, then I want you to tell me. Because this wasn’t your fault. It’s not a fault in the first place. And I want administration to understand what it means to be open and inclusive and protective. And you better not hold anything back.”

I agree with a nod, afraid that my words would just be nonsense if I tried to speak. She gives me one final, tight hug before pushing me off to my car as she wipes at her eyes with her thumb.

I open the door, toss my bag on the passenger seat and just sit there for a second or two before starting the car. Time to start this freakshow.

* * *

It feels like my chest is gaping open. My friends dropped me to the ground with their words. How my actions made their lives miserable. I know I did a terrible thing, but I couldn’t help it. I was being blackmailed for Christ’s sake.

But what hurts the most is the look on each of their faces. They looked so hurt by what happened. By my actions.

I somehow pull myself back to my car and it’s like I fall into habit. Like the sense-memory of this daily routine takes me to the drive-thru coffee place and then to the school parking lot.

I sit in my car for as long as possible, because what’s the point of putting myself out there among the kids of Creekwood High until I possibly need to? So I drink my coffee and listen to music on my phone until I actually have to move.

It’s like I’m on autopilot as I dump the now empty coffee cup in the trash and walk the same path I’ve walked these past 4 years into the lobby of the school. And it’s instantaneous, the burning on my skin as people suddenly realise I’m here. The gay kid is here. I grip the straps of my bag tightly. Mr. Worth tries to placate me, he even has a Pride pin on his lapel. But then he goes and mansplain his comments before break about seeing things in me that he saw in himself. Whatever.

I keep my head up, my eyes forward, and walk to homeroom as I feel the stares in my back.

And that’s basically how the morning goes. Awkward staring and ridiculous comments from some of the football players and just shy, small smiles from the drama kids.

But it’s finally lunch time and the hunger is outrageous. I fill up my tray and head to find an empty spot at one of the tables. I see my friends talking, laughing, having fun. And there’s nothing more I want to do but go and talk with them, have it out so that we can go back to being friends and I can start making up for my shitty actions.

And then it happens. The most ridiculous thing ever. And I’m on my feet, marching towards them. And they call me fag.

All I can say is thank God for Ms. Albright. She marches the two idiots to Mr. Worth’s office.

I return to my space at the table, all of the lunchroom’s eyes on me. I’m not even hungry anymore, but I force myself to eat. The volume starts to rise, the conversation starts to return to the cafeteria and I’m glad that the other’s can move on with their lives. But they’re probably gossiping even more about the gay kid.

And that’s when the seat beside me isn’t empty anymore.

Garrett’s on the soccer team and he’s kind of a jackass but in an adorable way? But then he’s left Nick, Abby and Leah to their own devices and actively sat beside me. So he does have his moments.

“Are you okay, Spier?” He asks, his tone soft and full of concern. He’s looking at me like I’m about to crumble into dust before his very eyes.

“Oh yeah, I’m great. Best freaking day of my life,” I respond, sarcasm dripping from every syllable.

“Sorry, that was a stupid question to ask. I just want you to know, I have your back. The other’s are acting like fools. Yeah, you fucked up royally but you were trying to protect this big secret of yours. I don’t like to see friends dropping each other like that, especially when you’re going through something huge like this. So... yeah, I have your back, Simon, if you need me.”

“I.... Thanks Garrett. I dunno what to say. I hope after Ms. Albright’s smack down, there’ll be no more stupidness. But I’m glad to have your help.”

I’m about to continue waffling on when a shorter girl, all pig tails and dungarees and mouth gear that looks painful, is standing beside, blushing so hard that her cheeks are crimson.

“Si...Simon Spie- Spier, Mr. Worth wants to talk to you in his office before next period.”

Message passed, she runs off to where Ethan is sitting and she starts speaking to him too before running off again.

“Ugh, I better get going,” I start, lifting my tray and stepping away from the table.

“Give me your phone,” Garrett requests. My eyes tighten but I still place the tray back on the table and pass him my phone after taking it from my pocket, but not before I unlock it.

He types away at it for a few minutes before passing me back my phone. I put it back in my back and lift the tray once more.

* * *

My day gets stranger and stranger. After talking things out with Ethan, and hearing the sad excuse of an apology from Aaron and Spencer, it’s back to class and sitting through more whispers as the kids who saw the stunt at lunch talk about it and me and, not to my surprise, the question of who Blue is.

But I get through them and after bumping into Ms. Albright on the way to rehearsal and getting a free pass for today from her, I’m ready for this awful day to be over.

But no, luck doesn’t want me to break out scott-free.

Monkey’s Asshole himself, Martin Addison has followed me out of the school to the parking lot. He keeps shouting my name, his voice cracking as he does. And I cannot stand it.

He’s giving me the usual crap of that he didn’t think people still did this, that he just wanted some of the heat off him after his stunt at homecoming and that his brother literally sent him to the floor with a punch before New Years when he heard the news.

I snap.

“I’m supposed to be the one that decides when and where and who knows! That’s supposed to be my thing! And you took it from me. So what I want is for you to stay the fuck away from me!” I roar at him, my eyes wide and my throat sore. And I feel better. Like a release that I didn’t even know was resting on my chest.

And he doesn’t say a word, he just blinks a few times, his eyes watering as he backs off and practically runs back into the school.

I turn on my heal and march myself into the car, hitting the steering wheel a few times, focusing on the pain in my hand than the one in my heart.

I just sit in my car for a few minutes, letting the quiet of the afternoon wash over.

And then there’s a knock at the passenger window. It shakes me from quiet place but I quickly unlock the door and Garrett climbs in.

“Wanna head to Waffle House, get our eat on?” he asks, avoiding the show that a few people must have witnessed there.

“Sure,” I nod, throwing my backpack into the back seat and starting the car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I adore writing for Simon and Garrett. 
> 
> Chapter title comes from Blood in the Water by Layup, which I feel is a song Simon would definitely be listening to from one of his angst-y playlists.
> 
> Also, a lot of stuff from the movie occurs here, but I don’t focus on it as it was covered well in the film. I’m just covering the before and after and the variations for my plot.


	5. I Was Busy Thinking About Boys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over a hundred kudos! And so many hits! Thanks to all! So pleased with this little venture into the Simonverse!

It takes almost 20 minutes to get out of the school parking lot, with all the buses and kids who drive and the teachers trying to leave the campus early who don’t have any after school activities to lead.

Garrett has hooked up his phone and instead of some white guy, classic rock coming out of the speakers, it’s actually a rapper.

I think my jaw dropped but i lift it up before he sees my reaction.

“Who is this?” I question, indicating left so as that I am heading in the direction of WaHo.

“It’s Kendrick Lamar. Bram has been trying to educate me on the better side of rap music, rather than just Eminem, and now I’m really obsessed with him. It’s like he speaks to me, or something. His lyrics are king.”

I have to shake my head. Garrett is just breaking down all the walls that surround the image of him in my head. And the recommendation came from quiet Bram? That’s thrown another curve ball at me.

“I can put something else on, if you like?” Garrett adds, reaching forward for his phone from cubby hole.

“No, no, it’s fine. Excellent, actually. Leave it.”

And so he does.

_Remember scribblin' scratchin' dilligent sentences backwards  
Visiting freestyle cyphers for your reaction_

* * *

 

Given that it’s one of the only good places for high school aged kids to hangout, the car park to the Waffle House is still quite empty. I pick a parking slot closest to the entrance and turn the engine off.

Garrett’s reaching into his bag as I’m climbing out of the car. He’s literally pulling everything out of it and dumping it at his feet in search of something.

“Go in and find us a booth, I gotta find my wallet in this mess of backpack.”

I just nod my head, my eyes creasing with laughter as I close the door and head in. There’s a few footballers at the counter placing orders to go and I shimmy past them as quickly as possible to get to a table, the further away the better. I pull out my phone and instinctively open the email app, and to my delight a new email appears into my inbox. The subject line reads _Home, Sweet Home._ I have to forcibly close the app, leaving the email unread. After all that’s happened, I can never again read an email from Blue in public, even if it is on my phone. I push my phone back into jeans pocket and play with the sugar pourer as a distraction.

A minute or so later, Garrett lands into the seat across from me and holds his wallet triumphantly above his head.

“Found it!” he cheers, like a five year old finding a nickel on the sidewalk.

“Congratulations,” I chuckle, giving him a small applause. And then gulp. Our waiter has arrived at our table, and it’s Lyle. I feel myself blushing. My embarrassment at thinking he could possibly be Blue at the forefront of my mind, while a quiet voice is telling me that the whole Being Outed thing is sorta his fault.

I swallow the lump in my throat and glance at Garrett quickly before giving my order. He orders basically everything on the menu and then a quiet moment fills us.

“So, what just happened there?” He asks, reaching for the sugar and passing out napkins as we wait for our food.

I can’t. I mean, what do you say in this situation? ‘Oh gee, Garrett, see I’m gay and I was secretly emailing this boy from school and there was a time I thought it was Lyle and Abby told me to act all cool and flirty and be finnnne with him and then he turned out to be straight so I lost my cool with Martin Addison, who was blackmailing me by the way, and then he went big and it sucked ass for him so he outed me because he had screenshots of the emails with said boy from school.’

Nope. Not a chance in hell. But I feel like I need to talk to someone who hasn’t been part of the whole crapfest of my life as closely as my friends and family have been.

So I start at the beginning and tell him all, only breaking when Lyle returns with our waffles and bacon and drinks (Latte for Garrett, Iced Mocha for me since it was an awful day).

And over the course of the meal, between eating and drinking and taking a breather here and there, I get through the story and, as it turns out, it gets easier to tell the more I tell it.

“Fuck.”

He’s not interrupted, interjected or even let a breathe escape loudly. And when I reach the end, he just looks at me with wide eyes.

“Fuck,” he repeats, dropping his napkin onto his plate. He swallows twice, then lifts his coffee cup and takes a swift drink.

“I’m so sorry Simon, that sounds like absolute hell.”

I shrug, lifting my cold drink and taking a long slurp.

“So, are you gonna report him to Worth?”

“I honestly don’t know. Part of me wants to just forget all of this and move on, but the rational part of me knows that he needs to learn a lesson. You can’t act like that and go unpunished. My mom wants to have a talk with Mr. Worth this week, but I kinda had her hold back to see how the reaction of the school would be like. And we know how that went. So I’ll probably be talking to her when I get in this evening.”

Garrett nods before finishing his coffee.

“Those jackasses must share a brain cell between each other. That and too many hits on the football pitch. Scrambled what little they had themselves.”

I snort into my drink.

“Ms. Albright was a total badass. What a smack down she gave them.”

I smile, placing the now empty plastic cup on the tabletop. “Yeah, she was awesome today. You should hear her during rehearsals too. So many put downs that I think she should have a show on Comedy Central or something.”

“How is Cabaret going? Got a leading role?”

“Oh yeah, company member number 8! I’m basically the star of the show,” I reply, giving him my best jazz-hands performance that sends him into stitches of laughter.

The conversation continues with discussion of the upcoming spring season of soccer, and how the coach is already having them preparing for the return of the sport with daily routines for the team to take part in, mainly running many many laps around the track, “For conditioning, they say, but I think they want to see which one of us will throw up first really,” Garrett explains, pushing me into loud laughter.

After we finished our meals and chatted about everything under the sun, we both make a move to exit the booth. Garrett insists that it’s his shout, since it was his idea to come here and that I’d had more than a shitty time of late. So I let him pay.

I offer him a ride home which he gratefully accepts and he’s hooked his iPhone back up to the auxiliary cable and Kendrick is once again preaching at us from his Godly station.

 _Tell me what you gon' do to me_  
_Confrontation ain't nothin' new to me_  
_You can bring a bullet, bring a sword_  
_Bring a morgue, but you can't bring the truth to me_

Garrett’s place is only 15 minutes from the restaurant. His driveway is packed, two cars taking up the spaces. I end up having to park across the road from his home.

“Thanks for this afternoon,” I start, switching the car off. He’s gathering all of the contents from his backpack and shoving them back in without any sense of order, “I really needed a night away from it all. It’s really helped.”

“What are friends for?” He states, smiling at me as he detaches his phone from the cable and pockets it. I just nod at him, a small smile on my face. He tells me good night and that he’ll meet me at the entrance 10 minutes before home room. I tell him there’s no need but he just gives me this look, the same kind of look he gave me during lunch. So I shut my mouth and just nod my head.

He gets out and jogs over to his house. Once he’s inside, I start my car and make the 20 minute journey home.

* * *

I’m pulling into the driveway, behind mom’s car, when I notice it. The neatly folded blue-green construction paper, caught between the seatbelt lock and the center console. I sigh, taking my phone out of my pocket. I search for my new contact and quickly type out a message.

 

_Simon_

_You left some of your notes in my car. I’ll give it to you in the morning._

_Garrett_

_Nope, I definitely didn’t. All my school stuff was on the floor and I made sure to check under the seat and all. Are you sure it’s mine? Have you looked at it?_

 

I feel my eyebrows crease as I start unfolding the paper carefully. I should really start locking my car during school, if people are gonna start using it as garbage can.

But it’s not trash. It’s another clue. Written in royal blue ink, in block lettering, is a single sentence.

118 IS MY BIRTHDAY.

And that’s when I let out a noise that I am so glad no other person was around to hear.

I read the message again, even though I haven’t forgotten what it states in the 10 seconds.

 

_Simon_

_My bad, it was actually a note from Ms. Albright for the play. See ya tomorrow._

 

_Garrett_

_No problem Simon, see you in the AM!_

 

I turn the engine off, grab my backpack from the backseat, carefully fold the note up again and place it inside the front pouch of my bag. I take a deep breath and start heading for my home.

* * *

 

I get home, shout a quick hello to the family and rush upstairs to my room, practically launching myself onto my chair and flipping up the laptop screen.

I open Mozilla and click on the Gmail bookmark.

 

 

> _From: bluegreen118@gmail.com_
> 
> _To: frommywindow1@gmail.com_
> 
> _Date: January 3 rd 3:04pm_
> 
> _Subject: Home, Sweet Home_
> 
> _Dear Simon,_
> 
> _You honestly have no idea how amazing it is to lie down on my own bed; to be surrounded all my books, novels and stuff. To feel like I won’t be walking into some deep and/or awkward conversation._
> 
> _I mean, I love my dad and stepmom Little Fetus, but home is home. And it also means I will have more time to email you, which is officially my favorite hobby now._
> 
> _Anyway, how was the first day of school? Anyone say anything? I hope you survived, at least. And just know, it’ll get better with each day that passes._
> 
> _On another, lighter note, you should have hopefully received the latest clue to my identity, so I don’t want to mention it in my emails until you do first. I feel it would ruin the chase if I did._
> 
> _As much as I want this email to go on, I have a mountain of laundry to start before dinner._
> 
> _Love,_
> 
> _Blue._

 

I’m beaming. Joy must be written across my forehead, pouring out of my very being. It’s surreal to know that after months of emails, I’m finally learning who he is. And it’s getting impossible to think of anything but him.

 

 

> _From: frommywindow1@gmail.com_
> 
> _To: bluegreen118@gmail.com_
> 
> _Date: January 3 rd 5:39pm_
> 
> _Subject: Re: Home, Sweet Home_
> 
> _Dear Blue,_
> 
> _I can just imagine you in your room, comic book character models all over your desk, books piled high on the bookshelves, probably a few family photos from your preteen days on the wall?_
> 
> _I totally agree, you’re own space is everything. It’s the place where you can be most yourself._
> 
> _I hope the Flash is taking pride of place somewhere in your own space. (I’m assuming it survived the journey back to Shady Creek)_
> 
> _School was shitty, if I’m honest. I had a run in with my friends, which is definitely connected to how I was outed, and then those two asshats from the football team, Aaron and Spencer, gave their own little lunchtime show of Ethan and myself doing the nasty. I think I almost got into my first physical fight, if it wasn’t for Ms. Albright ripping them a new one and frog marching them to Mr. Worth’s office. But I did end up making closer friends with a guy I usually sit at the same lunch table with, so that was good. We went out to Waffle House for dinner then, which is my favourite freaking place._
> 
> _And yes, I did get your note. So, your birthday is coming up soon. Joining the rest of us in the adult world. Anything you want to do before you can’t legally call yourself a kid?_
> 
> _I gotta say, I’m enjoying this game of Clue. It’s a lot more fun than Scarlett in the library with the lead pipe._
> 
> _I can’t wait for more._
> 
> _But until then, homework beckons._
> 
> _Love,_
> 
> _Simon._

 

I close the lid, and push myself back from the desk, my arms crossed behind my head as I lean back into the comfortable leather. Blue Blue Blue. He’s all I can think about, the only good thing I want to think about today. I should really make an attempt at my homework, but I can’t get my thoughts away from him and who he is. What does he look like when he’s a laughing? Does he get dimples? Does he gasp at the major plot points and fan moments in comic book movies? Or does he remain silent, sat on the edge of his seat, taking it all in for future discussion?

I just need to know him. See him. Kiss him. Hug him. Talk to him incessantly. Okay, maybe not incessantly, but I want a full, in-person conversation with him.

I’m twirling in my seat, arms still behind my head, thoughts stuck on Blue, Blue, Blue, when there’s a knock at my door and mom comes in.

“Hey Si, we missed you at dinner,” she smiles, closing the door behind herself as she comes in. She walks over to my bed and sits on the edge, straightening out the creases that are non-existent.

“Sorry, yeah. Me and one of the guys went for waffles after school and ended up talking longer than we thought.” Mom’s eyes quirk at the mention of Garrett and I have to laugh. “Before you jump to conclusions, it wasn’t Blue. Still an unknown entity to me. I was out with Garrett, he plays soccer with Nick.”

Mom nods, crossing her legs as she gets more comfortable. I take a deep breath. I did promise to tell her if anything happened. And then I tell her how the first day went, from when I left the house this morning to when I avoided rehearsals this afternoon. She’s on her feet as soon as I finish my story and I know what’s coming before she announces it.

“That’s it. I’m calling that school in the morning. This is unacceptable. More needs to be done.”

“I know there’s no stopping you, but could you at least mention that Ms. Albright was amazing throughout the whole thing?” I request, brushing some sleep from my eye as I fight back a yawn. How can I be tired? I was asleep early last night and slept in this morning. Maybe it is true, maybe going through a stressful time really is draining.

“Of course, Si. I just want there to be more like Ms. Albright in Creekwood High. Anyway, it’s TV night. Please Si, come join us. We’re watching more of the Americans.” She tempts me with the latest boxset we have nearly finished as a family. Dad wants us to be all caught up before the final season starts in a few months.

“I’ll be down around 8? I just have a bit of homework to do,” I promise, reaching for my book bag.

“Perfect. I’ll get the snacks ready. Sweet or salty?”

“How ‘bout both?” I reply, taking out my calculus book and notebook.

“Square deal. See you in 30.”

She steps across the room, ruffles my hair and is out the door before I find the right page that we were instructed to work on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kendrick Lamar - Momma (To Pimp a Butterfly)  
> Kendrick Lamar - All the Stars (Black Panther) feat. SZA
> 
> Title: Charli XCX - Boys


	6. You Will Surely See A Face That You'll Recognize

It’s with a happy sigh that I close my locker shut with a slam. The rest of the school week has finished without any further instances. Garrett (and Bram, once he got caught up with all the drama) are waiting down the corridor for me. I’d offered them a lift yesterday, since we basically have lived in each others pockets for the past two days.

After our breakfast-for-dinner event, Garrett did stick to his word and met me at the entrance to the school ten minutes before home room, with Bram in tow. Bram, for his part, looked so sorry for me and apologized so many times that I had to beg him to just be my friend and just keep stealing my fries at lunch. Which he has... actually, if I’m honest, it’s probably gotten worse since I told him – idiot move on my part. I like my fries.

Mom called the school and had an appointment with Mr. Worth the day after. Aaron, Spencer and Martin all got a suspension and Aaron & Spencer will be in detention for at least 2 months for their actions. And the school has actually stuck to their promise of being more inclusive and accepting: a pride flag now hangs on the door to Ms. Albrights office and their are flyers and information posters about LGBTQ+ groups and counsellors at the admin office and outside Mr. Worth’s office.

So, it’s been improving. Slowly.

My friends are still avoiding me, but it seems like they realized they jumped the gun with their reaction, especially after the suspension rumor was confirmed. But Garrett and Bram have more than made up for it. I honestly couldn’t have asked for two nicer guys to hang around with.

Which leads me to tonight. We are on our way to get some drive through coffee and then the three of us are heading to the movies. Garrett keeps calling us a triple threat, and the word bromance has been said far too many times for me to count. But it’s fun. A fun distraction.

Because my list of possible Blue candidates hasn’t really lessened since the second clue. Or the third, if I’m honest.

Yesterday morning, I opened my locker to find another piece of the blue-green paper. More words scribed with blue ink:

WHY IS WHITE THE DEFAULT THOUGH?

So, yeah. I mean, it technically has cut off people from list. But I’m still clueless. Because I’m definitely in love with this guy. Hopelessly, helplessly, deeply in love with this guy.

Garrett has decided we are going to see Molly’s Game. Apparently it’s based on a true story, but I’ve never heard of it. He told us all about the story of Molly and when he mentioned it was written and directed by Aaron Sorkin, Bram’s eyes lit up and he spoke incessantly about his love of the Social Network and the West Wing. Who knew Bram had such hidden depths?

So we order our coffees, one regular latte and a 2 iced coffees (one with milk) and then head to the theatre. Garrett has taken control of the music for the drive and we’re listening to Kid Cudi rap over a Lady GaGa song, the lyrics so hetero and sexified that I can feel the blush rising steadily from my neck to my head.

_She wanna have whatever she like_  
_She can if she bring her friend_  
_And we can have one hell of a night_  
_Through the day_

We park up across the street from the theatre and it’s busy as all hell, especially for this early in January but whatever. I’m up for getting lost in somebody else’s life for a couple of hours.

Garrett insists on buying us snacks and drinks so I instantly claim a packet of double stuffed Oreos for myself, a long with a larger Dr. Pepper. The guys get popcorn and regular Cokes.

We shuffle into the empty screening room for the 3:30 screening: Garrett, Bram and then myself. The two start talking about how good the West Wing was, Bram mentioning some HBO show from a few years back that he still binges even now.

The trailers play and the majority of the Oreos have already been eaten. We settle in for the picture.

* * *

 

2 and half hours later, we are back in my car and heading home.

“Not as good as the Social Network, but still excellent,” Bram states. He and Garrett have switched seats for the ride home. Bram lives a few blocks over from Garrett so I’ll be dropping him off afterwards.

“Yeah, but the scene’s with Idris were outta the park. Dude’s a king. Like, I would walk through fire to just be in that man’s presence,” Garrett praises, practically swooning in his seat.

Bram turns to me as he rolls his eyes, “Garrett basically has a man-crush on Idris Elba. You would not believe how many films and TV shows I’ve been forced to watch, only because Idris had a starring role. Though, I gotta say The Wire and Luther are still pretty epic.”

“I gotta be honest, I’m not really a movie person. My family binge watches the Bachelor and then avoids sex on TV from drama shows. This was the first film I’ve seen in the theatre since Deathly Hallows Part 2.”

“What? How can you not see anything in 7 years? That’s so bizarre.”

“Hey, I’m more into my music,” I defend myself.

“But the MCU has just been insane though, like it’s a huge series. Have you not seen any of them?” Bram asks, turning down the stereo.

“Em, I saw the first Iron Man I think? And the first Avengers?”

Bram over-dramatically acts like he’s collapsing into the passenger seat.

“You broke Bram. That’s impressive, Spier,” Garrett congratulates me, slapping me on the shoulder as he laughs.

We pull up to his house a few minutes later. He shouts his goodbyes, patting Bram on the shoulder before opening his door and hopping out. He actually yells “Peace Out” as shoots up his V symbol and slams the front door shut behind him.

“Once Cabaret is over, we are definitely having a marathon of the MCU films. You need to be educated!” Bram declares, giving a pointed look. I give him a small smile as I start driving in the general direction of his house.

“Okay, okay! I promise, my first weekend of freedom I will definitely call over to you and we can wile away the weekend.”

Bram looks affronted, his mouth slightly open as he stares at me.

“Waste away? Waste away? Simon, I am hurt. Okay, give me your phone.”

“What? Why?” I ask, even as I pass it from the dash to him.

“Because I am holding you to this promise. And I’m gonna text you some links to articles to start your education.”

He texts himself from my phone and saves both numbers to each phone before passing it back to me.

“Okay, I look forward to learning.”

We arrive into his neighbourhood and he directs me to his home. It’s a traditional home, down to the white picket fence. I pull into the empty drive way and turn the engine off.

Bram makes no attempt to leave, so we just sit there in the silence of the night. I thought it would be beyond awkward, sitting in a quiet car with Cute Bram Greenfeld, but it’s not. It’s actually quite comfortable. Peaceful, even.

“I’m sorry, Simon,” Bram whispers. He’s wringing his hands in his lap, eyes boring a hole in the ceiling of the car. For a moment, I’m lost. Why is he apologizing? Then I realize, it’s not for anything he’s done. It’s for the whole freaking situation I find myself in.

“Bram, it’s not your fault that some assholes in school think it’s funny to act like this. You and Garrett have been awesome these last few days. I’d be lost if you guys hadn’t decided to ignore the BS of the high school politics.”

“I just wish,” he sighs, his hands stilling as he chances a glance at me. “I wish Nick and the others could get past what happened. I mean, you did kinda fuck up, but I think you’re actions were justified, in a way. Blackmail is a lot worse than stopping people from hooking up sooner than they could have.”

His reasoning is sound, but still. I fucked up. I shake my head.

“I fucked up, Bram. Used my friends like toys. And in the end, I still got outed.”

“Si... You were blackmailed. And coming out is definitely a big deal. So, yeah, you fucked up. But how else could you protect the secret you weren’t ready for the whole world to know. And, realistically, Nick and Abby are dating now and Leah... well, isn’t it better she got her heart broken now, than pining for you at some point in the future? I mean, this gives her more time to move on? And, being honest, what she wanted was never going to happen anyway, was it? No offence or anything, but she had the wrong body parts for you to even be attracted to.”

My brain does this weird thing when he says that. In my minds eye, I’m seeing Leah if she was a dude. But it’s just wrong. I’m... Jesus, my brain is far too weird sometimes.

“Thanks for that mental image, Bram,” I shudder. He laughs, a really quiet, throaty, internal laugh.

“Sorry about that. My main point, which I’ve somehow gotten away from in that very strange tangent, is that I want you to know you’re not alone. I’m here for you. Whatever way you need: a friend, a protector, a study buddy, movie critiquing, iced coffee connoisseur. All you have to do is ask.”

I’m blushing. Again. Who knew Cute Bram Greenfeld was such a wordsmith? But his words were so touching that I can’t help smile shyly at him and nod my head in his general direction.

“Thanks Bram.”

He gives me a salute a second later, grabs his school bag from between his feet and is out of my car in the blink of an eye.

I rub at the corner of my eyes, drying away the moisture of the tears that Bram had caused speaking his words. Then I hook my phone up to the sound system and select a track that seems incredibly appropriate.

_In a way, it's all a matter of time_  
_I will not worry for you, you'll be just fine_  
_Take my thoughts with you, and when you look behind_  
_You will surely see a face that you recognize_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First chapter without emails. Felt different writing a chapter without one. 
> 
> Make Her Say - Kid Cudi (Man on the Moon) feat. Kanye West, Common and Lady GaGa
> 
> Title - You're Not Alone - Olive


	7. You're Driving Me Wild

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, just didn't have time to finish the chapter until tonight. Yay, not being sleepy.
> 
> Title: Wild - Troye Sivan (Blue Neighbourhood)

The weekend rehearsal on Saturday is an awful mess of a show. Martin keeps messing his cue’s and forgetting his lines. Abby is still blanking me and I’m trying to keep on top form for it all, but it’s just not working out. My kicks and hand-ography are so off that I’m spending more time on the stage floor rather than practising, so much so that Ms. Albright tells me to take a break and sit it out for a few minutes.

I’m just sitting by myself, head leaning back on the head rest of the chair when my phone vibrates in my hand. All of the crap of the morning is pushed from my head. It’s another email from Blue.

 

> _From: bluegreen118@gmail.com_
> 
> _To: frommywindow1@gmail.com_
> 
> _Date January 6 th 11:43am_
> 
> _Subject: Another (Coming Out) Thing_
> 
> _Dear Simon,_
> 
> _I have already finished my homework for the weekend, and the chores are done that my mom left me to do before she started her morning shift. So I’m at a loss. If it was possible to just email you all day, that would be perfection. But I know you’re busy with Caberet so I’ll bide my time by playing Fifa 17 on the PlayStation while I wait for your reply._
> 
> _But then main reason for this email is to tell you something very important._
> 
> _I came out to my best friend during the week. Because, when we do get together, I don’t want to hide away from him. I honestly thought I was going to throw up all over the table in Starbucks we were in. Even if it was easier than the first time, coming out is still nauseating. And then I told him everything about us. About it all. So, he’s now actively helping me with my little game._
> 
> _But again, nothing enough to let you know who I am. Until you can actually guess who I am._
> 
> _So, how is life in the Cabaret going? Not long until opening night, right? I’ll be there, probably a lot. But hey, my crush is performing on stage, what am I supposed to do?_
> 
> _Love,_
> 
> _Blue._

My face is on fire again. God, how can he do this to me every time? I’m constantly blushing at the mere thought of him. Each and every time. I just have to think of him and I can feel the skin turning red from my shoulders upwards. And because I’m so freaking pale, it gets to a point that is so obvious it’s outrageous. But I love it. Because it’s Blue doing it to me. Making me feel so good about myself. God, I wanna kiss him so hard.

No, I can’t think about that. Kissing leads to dirtier thoughts and since I’m still in rehearsals, I cannot think about it. But, God, the image in my head is burning away every possible thing I could care about away. It’s all just Blue, Blue, Blue in my brain. Again.

 

> _From: frommywindow1@gmail.com_
> 
> _To: bluegreen118@gmail.com_
> 
> _Date: January 6 th 11:51am_
> 
> _Subject: Re: Another (Coming Out) Thing_
> 
> _Dear Blue,_
> 
> _Rehearsal are.... bleurg. I think that covers everything about how bad this day is going? But at least the attention isn’t focused solely on me this time. Martin is having an incredibly crap time. I think Ms. Albright is actually gonna lose her shit with him today. Who knew 2 days exclusion would not make you a better person?_
> 
> _Also, how can you have all the homework completed already? That’s madness. I haven’t even looked at my school work since last period yesterday._
> 
> _Congratulations Blue! I wish it wasn’t so nauseating, having to go through it each time, but at least it’s getting better?_
> 
> _I just want to kiss you. So hard. And deep. And often. When will I be getting my next clue? I mean, the list is basically nothing now. Did you know that I’m completely oblivious? Like, completely, extremely clueless (pardon the pun)._
> 
> _So I’m gonna stop here, before I put my foot further into my mouth. I’m technically still in rehearsals, so I should start paying attention again._
> 
> _Until next time,_
> 
> _Love,_
> 
> _Simon._

I close up the app and locking my phone, I look up towards the stage again, for the first time in a while. And I realise that it’s just me still in the auditorium. Well, me and Cal. His bangs and blue-green eyes used to hold my attention for far too long. There was even a time that I thought he might’ve possibly been Blue. But with all the clues I have gotten, I can definitively say that he isn’t Blue.

“Hey, I thought you might have zoned out. Ms. Albright called time for lunch, she’s off collecting us some pizzas. Then this afternoon we are gonna do a full dress rehearsal,” he tells me, leaning against the chair at the end of the room in front of me. He flicks his hair out of his eyes and smiles up at me cutely. If I wasn’t so gone on Blue, I would definitely be crushing hard on this boy.

“Thanks, yeah, I completely zoned out.”

“Yeah, must’ve been something good on your phone, your face is still a slight shade of red.”

I snort, lowering my head so that my chin is resting on my chest.

“Yeah, something really good.”

He takes a breath, crossing his arms over his chest, “Another email from your boy Blue?”

“As a matter of fact, yes.”

He smiles at me again, letting his arms fall to his side again, “Good, I’m glad. After post on Creeksecrets, I’m glad you’re still having a good thing going on. You deserve some loooove,” he says, elongating the word so far as he leans towards me and quirky his eyebrows so ridiculously that he makes me laugh.

“Come on, everyone is in the cafeteria grabbing some drinks before the feast of pizza arrives.”

I nod my head, putting my phone back into my hoodie pocket as I sit up and follow him out of the theater.

* * *

Rehearsals have finished for the day, and the majority of us are helping out to clear the props and stage items back to their rightful place.

By the time it’s all sorted out, it’s only myself, Cal, Martin, Taylor and Abby on the stage. Ms. Albright is sat in the audience area, making notes and flipping through pages of the script. It’s sorta crazy, if she’s making changes this late in schedule. The play opens in less than 2 weeks.

We all starting saying out good byes to each other. Cal and Taylor are walking off stage together, Taylor raving on about some particular staging that should be slightly tweaked for her to get the best from the audience. Poor Cal is just nodding his head as he rushes up the aisle and out of the performance area.

Martin is loitering, just hanging around, glancing at myself and Abby. I’m hoping he just fucks off. As if getting suspended wasn’t enough, or the raging he was in the receiving end from me. He seems to pick up my humour and politely runs off stage into the wings. I breathe a sigh of relief.

And it’s only me and Abby. I’m having incredible issues, trying to put on my denim jacket over my hoodie. On the first attempt, the jacket was actually inside out, from when I’d taken it off this morning. On the second, it was upside down. On the third, the sleeve of my hoodie got caught on the denim and was pulled up my arm inside the jacket. Finally it’s on, and Abby is still there, checking her messages on her phone, her purse pinched between her elbow and her side.

“Abby,” I start, moving towards her slowly. She doesn’t hear me the first time, so I clear my throat and try again.

“Abby?”

“Yeah,” she starts, turning towards me, her phone gripped tightly in her right hand, “Yeah, Simon?”

Her voice is curt and tight with me. I swallow the lump in my throat and pull my head up, instead of staring at my sneakers.

“Abby, I just... I’m so sorry. Things got way outta control, and I wish I’d told you what was happening. But I was terrified. I know that doesn’t get me off the hook, but I just... I felt like I had no option, other than do what he was asking me to do.”

“Si, you came out to me! That would have been the perfect opportunity to tell me what the hell was happening!”

“Abby, if I could’ve done it then, I would’ve. But I was terrified. I couldn’t actually even think after coming out to you. I really shouldn’t have been driving!”

“Si, I didn’t care that you were gay. It just was such a non-issue to me that -”

But I can’t leave it there. I can’t.

“It was such an issue for me though, Abby! For me! This is the biggest issue of my life! I was telling you my biggest secret as we drove back from sitting with the biggest asshole I currently know in all of existence.”

She’s taken aback. I don’t think she was expecting this kind of response from me.

“I just... It’s too soon, Simon. You were using my life as a toy. I... still need time, okay? I’ll see you on Monday.”

And she’s throwing me a sad smile, her eyes teary and then she’s gone, out the same side as Martin left.

I take a moment, playing with the string from my hoodie as my blink away the tears. Why do these conversations never get any easier? And why can’t people get it? I was being freaking blackmailed.

I sigh, get off the stage and head out, saying a quick goodbye to Ms. Albright as I walk past her.

* * *

It’s Tuesday morning and I am in no rush to get into the school, so I’m sat in my car listening to more of my particularly crafted playlists. Today, it’s Tunez. With a Z. Because I’m that hip.

I’m just letting the music wash over me, trying to set up my cool, chill vibe for the day that’s coming, not thinking of anyone or anything or particular, even though I’m totally lying to myself and it’s obviously Blue.

I’ve narrowed it down to 5 people. But each one just doesn’t seem to actually fit the person in the emails. I mean, they tick the boxes of the clues, sure. But the personality? Nope.

I’ve started thinking too deep again. The point of this (pity) party for one in my car was to just de-stress. So I thrown myself back into the song, the artist, the lyrics.

 _We’re alike you and I_  
_Two blue hearts locked in our wrong minds_  
_So can we make the most out of no time?_  
_Can you hold me?_  
_Can you make me leave my demons and my broken pieces behind?_

“Hey Spier!” the call comes, roaring over the music as Garrett slides into the passenger seat, Bram into the back as usual, a salute in the rear view mirror to my line of sight.

“Seriously, Garrett, one of these you are gonna give me a heart attack if you keep doing that!”

“Psh, you drama nerds always like to overreact to shit,” he responds, waving of my concerns with the back of his hand.

“This is the third time in less than two weeks, Laughlin. It’s becoming too much like a habit for my liking.”

He laughs, a full bellyful laugh as he stretches his legs out, “At least I’m keeping you on your toes.”

“Nope, I much prefer all of my foot firmly on the ground, thank you very much.”

Both of the guys laugh and I smile to myself. I’m glad Garrett made that decision that day to come sit with me. I wish I’d gotten to know them more before all this.

“Why are you hiding away in here?” Bram asks, tapping on the back of the Garrett’s seat to the rhythm of the music.

“I just wasn’t in the humor for the crap in that school before class starts. So I decided to listen to some gay music and get all my gay out before I flounce in,” I exaggerate my words and arm movements, playing up to the stereotype that I know or seen and what most of the dickheads think ‘gay’ means.

“But you flounce so well, Si.”

I look at Garrett, my mouth open in shock at the comment from Bram, my face mirrored in his.

“Have you been watching our friend, Abraham?” Garrett teases, smirking at the other soccer player with one of his eyebrows almost hidden in his hair line with how high he’s raised it on his face.

It’s so strange, seeing Bram blush. It’s mostly noticeable on his ears. He’s so awkward and fidgety and he doesn’t know what to do with his hands and how am I only realising that his fingers are so long and thin and delicate? Like, not knobbly or knuckle y, but just... I dunno how else to describe them.

“Garrett, you know it was a joke. Si, I didn’t mean anything by it,” Bram quickly defends himself, and me.

"So you’re saying I don’t flounce so well now? And there was me, pleased as punch that the great Bram Greenfeld, leading goal scorer for Creekwood High, was paying me a compliment. Thanks Bram.”

Garrett practically falls out of the car in stitches, barely breathing he’s laughing so hard as he follows me out of the car. Bram rushes to get out, having to actively lift his jaw from the floor at my joke.

“Let’s get this day over with,” I state, throwing a strap over my shoulder and hunching up my shoulders. Garrett stands at my side, throwing his arm over my should and proclaims, “Let’s get our learnin’ on!”


	8. You've Got Me Almost Melting Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow, now over 200 Kudos? You guys are awesome. 
> 
> Also, apologies for the delay. Ireland is currently enjoying an unprecedented bout of sunshine and I've been enjoying it/too warm to write.

It’s been a crazy week of rehearsals, assignments, avoiding Martin and trying to figure out who Blue actually is. Three out of the four have been going very well, so, yes. I’m still none the wiser about my digital boyfriend’s real life persona.

And at this stage, I’m probably annoying everyone else who comes into contact with me. Namely my family and Garrett and Bram. Because I’ve become incredibly snappy with them all. At least Garrett understands my issue. But still. I’m sorta in an asshole-y mood.

Which isn’t helped by the fact that Cabaret is opening in 3 days, for all to see. The anxious, nauseating feeling is starting to really surpass the butterflies in the stomach stage and becoming massive bats.

No, I’m gonna think about this right now. I’m gonna eat my lunch and join in with whatever the conversation is that Garrett and Bram are currently having. It must be something incredibly important, Garrett is practically jumping from his seat in his excitement.

“We have to do something, Brammy! It’s an important day and all! We can’t just ignore it!”

Bram is shaking his head as he reaches across the table to my tray and stealing more fires, flashing me such a cute smile that it almost stops my breathing, “I’m doing homework, grabbing take-out from my and my mom’s favorite Chinese place, skyping my dad and step-mom and then I’m watching some bad ass Netflix programming. And that will be my Thursday. Sorry to disappoint you, G.”

“So so boring, Bram! You’re only 18 once, you gotta celebrate somehow! You’re legally allowed to vote, buy a porn mag, smoke a cigarette! For the love of God, please do something exciting!” Garrett implores him, leaning over the table top in a diagonal angle towards Bram, his hands together, pleading with the other soccer player.

“Because I’ve never seen porn, or been around smoke? And what vote is there coming up that I want to vote in?” Bram rolls his eyes at Garrett, now playing with the label of his water bottle.

“But it’s all legal now! Come on! And it’s your golden birthday too! That cannot be ignored!”

Having now caught up, understanding what exactly they’re talking about, I decide to butt in on their conversation.

“Wait, it’s your golden birthday? This Thursday?” Bram nods, looking at me quizzically, “Well then you definitely have to do something special for it!”

“Like I said, dinner, Skype and Netflix are my plans. Plus, I need to be fresh and clear for your big day on Friday!”

“Oh no, no sneaking your way out of this Abraham Louis Greenfeld! Spier, continue with your plans,” Garrett doffs his imaginary cap in my direction, which I think means continue? I still don’t understand 25% of what that guy says. But I continue anyways.

“Lunch on Thursday is on me, alright? Garrett, I’m gonna text you tonight with what you gotta do.”

“Hey, how’d I get roped into this?!” he argues, looking all indignant at me and then Bram in quick succession.

“You’re the very reason we are having this conversation, ass.” I respond, throwing some fries at his head. He easily dodges and retaliates with throwing used napkins and empty Oreo wrappers at me.

“Children, as much as I am enjoying this show of juvenile idiocy, can I please go back to eating Simon’s fries before the warning bell rings?” Bram asks, his voice deep and demanding and hot. I’ve never heard him so in control before. Well, except for that night at his Halloween party when he was in hosting mode. But that was an entirely different situation, mainly because of the alcohol involved.

“Wait,” I start, suddenly realizing what has (literally) been sat right in front of my eyes. “Holy shit.”

Bram gulps, his Adam’s apple jumps in his throat and I want to take my eyes off it but the action is just so enthralling, such a a distraction from what I’ve just come to realize.

I need to vocalize what just dawned on me.

“A president, not white, Jewish, your birthday...” I whisper, my mind in a race to recall the clues on my list that’s been at the forefront of my brain for the past 3 weeks.

“Holy shit,” I cannot stop swearing. Why can’t I stop? Oh wait, I know whay.

Bram is Blue.

Blue is Cute Bram Greenfeld.

“Did we break Simon?” Garrett stage whispers, staring over at me as he rests back in his chair.

“It sorta looks like it,” Bram stage whispers right back. His hand is moving slowly across the table top, reaching for my own that seems to be lifeless, lying palm up half on the tray, half on the table. “Si... are you alright?” He asks, looking me dead in the eye. His hand is almost on mine.

And that’s when I shoot up to my feet, the chair falling back loudly onto the ground. The silence is deafening, all eyes falling on me. I’m terrified right now. It’s like a panic attack, an anxiety attack.

How the hell did I miss it? I’m speechless.

And I think I’m gonna throw up. So I’m running, Garrett and Bram calling out after me, Leah too, I think. But I can’t stop; I don’t stop. I need to get to a bathroom. I can’t be that kid that throws up in the school hallway.

I slam my way through the corridor, dodging people still lingering in the corridor as I finally make my way into a bathroom and then a stall that isn’t destroyed by the moron’s of this school.

I’m breathing heavily, hugging the bowl, as I try to get my thoughts in order; get my brain round the sudden realization.

My breathing, heavy and erratic, echoes round the empty bathroom. His stepmom’s pregnant with Little Foetus, that’s another thing I can tick off the list. Fucking hell, how can I be this dense? I mean, seriously.

Bram is freaking Blue.

I spend another few minutes in the stall, this time sat on the closed over seat, my hands tangled in my hair as I grasp the huge news. Huge freaking news.

My phone vibrates a few times, a couple of texts – probably from Garrett or Leah, checking in on me. Ignoring the messages for the moment, I stand up and exit the cubicle.

I’m staring at my reflection in the mirror, using the sink to hold myself upright.

“Yeah, definitely paler than usual,” I mutter to myself, shaking my head as I turn on the cold tap. Filling my hands with water, I splash myself in the face to help clear out the og.

The warning bell rings and I swear to myself. My locker is as far away as possible from this bathroom, and my backpack is still in the cafeteria.

Sighing, I grab some paper towels and dry off my face. I toss them in the trash when finished and attempt to fix my hair into a less messy style but give up. My hair is always unruly and always will be.

I exit the bathroom and enter the throng of activity of students moving towards their classes. To my surprise, Bram is leaning against the wall opposite to the bathroom, his bag slung over one shoulder, mine grasped in the other.

He tentatively walks across the corridor to me, dodging a freshman who is carrying far too many books.

“You got ridiculously pale when you stopped responding to us, so I figured this is where you ran off to,” he offers by way of an explanation, “Feeling any better?”

His hand is outstretched towards me, and I calmly, but quickly, retake ownership of the school bag.

“Thanks, yeah. Just felt very nauseated all of a sudden. I’m good now.”

My words are thought out, and I think he realizes. He knows that I know. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, each time failing to utter even a syllable, let alone a full word.

“We should probably head off to class. Don’t wanna be late for Mr. Wise’s latest, riveting lecture,” I fill the void with a plan of action and start walking in the direction of our English teachers classroom. After a few steps, I realise he isn’t following me. He’s stuck to the spot, staring at me.

I smile at him shyly, taking a step towards him.

“Coming... Blue?” I whisper, because this only for him. Between us and us alone.

The look I get back is so strong, so warming, so... so full of love, that I can’t help myself when I blush.

“Lead the way, Jacques,” he whispers back.

I have to fight the urge to push him against the wall, kiss him until his eyes roll to the back of his head as he is moaning my name.

God, I  have to fight the urge just to hold his freaking hand.

 

* * *

The afternoon classes are such a struggle. Seriously, how did I not realize that I share so many hours in the day with Cute Bram Greenfeld? This is ridiculous.

I spend half my time in class trying not to get caught staring at him and the other half feeling his eyes burning a whole in my back. The urge is so freaking strong, it’s beginning to get unbearable.

  
There’s a lapse in Biology, where Bram isn’t in this class and the teacher has asked us to read ahead that I finally get a chance to respond to the texts I received during my minor freak out.

 

_Garrett_

_You okay Simon? You kinda disappeared on us._

_Garrett_

_Bram has your bag, if you’re looking for it._

_Leah_

_Are you okay Si?_

_Garrett_

_Heading to class now, tried looking for you but couldn’t find you._

_Bram_

_I have your stuff. I think I know where you are, so I’m gonna be waiting in the corridor when you’re ready._

 

I shoot off a quick response to Garrett, telling him I’m fine and that I’ll explain exactly happened tomorrow.

Leah is a different story. It’s the first time she’s contacted me since that morning after Christmas break. I feel like leaving her on the read screen like she did. But I can’t. She’s been my best friend for too long and I miss her.

_Simon_

_Everything’s okay, just felt sick after the mystery meat feast that was my lunch. Can we maybe talk? Soon? I miss you. All of you guys._

 

I press send and the message is out there. I hope she responds.

I still can’t get over this. Bram is Blue. We had sorta talked on our walk to English, but that was mainly about the homework and what we could expect in today’s lesson. And before I left him to go off to Bio, we decided to meet up after rehearsals had finished tonight.

We are gonna have a long, awkward conversation. And maybe make out.

I shake my head, trying to focus back on the chapter everyone else is reading quietly. Only two hours and thirty minutes to go.

 

* * *

I’m sat on the bleachers, leaning back, my arms stretched out as I start up at the night sky. It’s cloudless and the stars are starting to shine out so brightly. This is part of the reason I love winter so much.

Tonight’s full dress rehearsal ran through without a hitch. The anticipation of everyone in the ensemble is really building. Friday cannot come quick enough, that we can show everyone what we’ve been practicing so much for the past 4 months.

I did have another moment with Abby during practice. She came over during a break, asking how I was after lunch. I gave the same line as I text to Leah, that I suddenly felt sick after making the bad decision with the mystery meat.

I feel bad for lying, especially since all my other lies got me in this position in the first place. But I can’t just blurt it out. I can’t just out Bram to her. Especially now that I know how shitty, how soul destroying that feeling is.

So I’m sitting on the bleachers, I have my music up to it’s loudest, the rhythm and lyrics pulsing through my being as I build myself up.

_You've got the most unbelievable blue eyes I've ever seen_  
_You've got me almost melting away_  
 _As we lay there under blue sky with pure white stars_  
 _Exotic sweetness a magical time_

I actually squeak when Bram arrives, poking me in the shoulder to draw my attention. Embarrassed, I pull the ear buds out and start wrapping them around my cell.

“Sorry for being late, Coach decided today was the day to end the training session with a 5 mile run,” he apologizes, looked down bashfully at his sneakers.

“S’ok,” I respond, shoving my phone deep into the confines of my bag.

He takes a seat beside me, dropping his stuff between his legs.

And the silence engulfs us. It spreads between us, electric and yet soft. I can feel it in my finger tips, coursing through my system.

I turn to talk as Bram speaks.

“Are you disappointed it’s me?”

“What? God no. I’m just totally shocked that it is you, but, like, pleased beyond belief that it is as well.”

He turns to look at me, his hands grasping his knees so tightly that I can see the muscles tightening. He looks so on edge, terrified. I get that.

“Mainly I can’t stop thinking about the minion. I mean... At your party, for Halloween? I was ready to blurt it all out to you. I guess it was liquid courage. But then I walked in on you kissing that sexy minion. I really crapped out after that, ‘cause then Martin puked all over me. And I was dressed in freaking white!”

I’m rambling and complaining and I need to shut up with the tangents and get on topic.

“I had first thought you were Blue after the whole Halloween Oreo’s being your favorite. So, I was being all cool around you. Drank my first beer.”

“I’d call that choked down your first beer, rather than drank,” he interrupts me, his grip releasing slightly.

“Fine, I can agree with that. So yeah, building up my courage. Then there was Beirut and the epic Karaoke.”

“And then came the minion. So, let me just state the fact that I was definitely very drunk, otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to work up the courage to talk to you. Secondly, I was very confused, which goes in hand with the being drunk, and finally it ended like a minute after you walked in. I mean, I couldn’t actually go through with touching her, let alone kissing her. I mean... have I mentioned before that I’ve had a crush on for the past 3 and a half years?”

I’m smiling now, all teeth and wide eyed and there’s a warmth spreading in my chest that I’ve never felt before.

“It may have been mentioned a time or two before, yeah.”

We’re both laughing, some of the tension has been broken. I can feel it crumbling down around us. But that electricity is still there, so strong and yet soothing. It’s a feeling I’ve never ever experienced before.

“You’re Jewish?” I ask, not intending to ask that question at all.

He laughs, and it’s so light and attractive sounding and I’m falling for him even more.

“Yep. Black, Jewish and gay. I’m ticking all the boxes for the minorities, I think.”

“It makes you, you.”

He smiles at me, and I fall even more in love with him.

“Wait, so the friend who you came out to after Christmas break, who’s been helping you with clues? That was Garrett?” I ask, a sudden epiphany jumping to my mouth before I have time to think again.

He nods, his head bowed as he laughs again.

“Yup. My trusted sidekick in Operation: Make Simon Fall Madly in Love With Me.”

“He did a great job, even if he went over board with the dramatics. It literally took him twenty minutes to pick up everything from his backpack after he hid that note for me in my car.”

“He’s all about the love.”

I scoot closer to him, we’re in contact from the hips down, my right to his left. It feels right. It feels comfortable. It’s feel perfect.

“We have so much to talk about. But we don’t either. I mean... we’ve basically covered everything in our emails. And I don’t wanna be presumptuous of anything. But, I really wanna hold you hand.”

“So hold it.”

And I do.

 

* * *

The temperature has dropped some, in the forty minutes we’ve been sat there. We’ve talked some more. Okay, a lot. About everything that we’ve ever emailed about. But it’s getting close to dinner time, and I don’t wanna be late. Nora’s trying out a new recipe on us tonight.

It’s with a heaviness that I didn’t expect that we both start walking to the car park. The best part of this whole time together, apart from mashing Blue with Bram in my head, is that we’ve been holding hands for all that time.

And we still are as we walk through the empty car park. There is only a few left in the lot, but the first we come to is Bram’s.

We walk slowly, as if by some unspoken rule, so that we can spend more time together. As much time as possible.

We reach Bram’s car first, and now I’m just stalling for time. I don’t want to go home. Screw dinner, and the awkwardness with my dad. My online boyfriend is holding my freaking hand.

“Simon?” Bram starts, his gear left forgotten at the trunk of his car.

“Yeah?”

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, his voice urgent and quick and so freaking adorable.

I nod my head, my brain having short-circuited as soon as he asked the question. I let out a noise of disappointment as he drops my hand, but then he’s got both his hands on my face, lightly holding my head. Like he’s scared I’m not real or that I’ll run away.

And then he’s leaning in, and my breath quickens and I’m leaning in too. My eyes drift shut as our lips meet and it’s like freaking fireworks on the fourth of July.

My arms fall around his waist and one of his hands falls to my upper back and he’s pulling me to his chest and there’s no space left between us. My heart is beating so hard, so fast, but I never want this to stop. It finally makes sense. Why all those straight couples can’t keep their hands off each other. If this is what kissing, proper kissing is like? I can totally get down with being a hormonal mess.

The hand that was on my cheek is now in my hair, tangled in it’s strands as he kisses me deeper and harder and I have to step forward slightly to keep our mouths together.

But then the burning in my chest comes and I need oxygen and we reluctantly separate.

I can’t take my eyes off him, even when I’m taking deepest breaths possible.

“Wow,” I whisper, because not one other word feels appropriate.

“Yeah,” he replies. And he’s reaching towards me and lands a small, light peck on my lips, grinning so widely that it’s infectiously spreads to me.

The moment is sadly broken by his ringing, and he rushes to answer the call.

“That was my mom. I’m late for dinner.” I check the time and realize that I’m cutting it fine for the Spier family dinner.

“Me too if I don’t start moving now.”

Neither of us moves. We just stare at each other, grinning stupidly. That phrase, a teenager in love, really is accurate. A beat passes between us and then he’s reaching for me again.

“One more the road?” He asks seconds before he’s kissing me again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we have it! Secret's out! But more story is still to come. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, I actually adored writing this one so so much.
> 
> Chapter title and Track Used: I Love You Always Forever (Donna Lewis cover) - Betty Who


	9. Trying To Set Straight The Lines That I Trace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in posting, been another hot, sunny few weeks in Ireland.
> 
> Also, over 300 kudos! Amazing!

I’m still in a daze.

I feel like I’ve been on a rollercoaster for the last few hours. My head is spinning, my lips are tingling, my heart is gonna beat out of my chest.

I’ve not managed to make it out of the parking spot yet. Seriously, all I’ve done since Bram left me was breathe and smile and blush. It’s actually kind of awesome though.

Who know kissing boys would be that amazing?

But I’ve waited too long. I’ve had a couple of texts from my mom and one from Nora too, all asking if I’m on my way.

So I start the car and put it in drive and head out onto the road. I have a random playlist playing, something light and happy and summer-y. Because I’m deliriously happy right now, and I need the music to match my humor.

And I’m bopping in my seat as I make my way down the road. My cell buzzes, another text I guess. I wait until I get to a stop before checking. It’s another email, not a text.

An email from Blue.

From Bram.

I can physically feel the happiness spreading in my chest.

But the traffic is moving on so I toss the phone back on the passenger seat and follow the flow home. An enormous, outrageous grinning taking over my face. I turn the music up and continue my own private party.

 _Never felt like this_  
_Prayers have been answered_  
_Memories I won't forget_  
_Always blind to see_

 

* * *

I arrive home just a bit after dinner has usually started, but I think it’s okay to be a little late for once. Especially on this kind of day. I park up, shut off the engine and grab my stuff.

Dad’s at the side of the house, finally packing up the Christmas lights. They’ve been sat in a box underneath the dinner table for weeks. I guess Mom finally drove the point home that they should be back in their rightful place with the rest of the decorations. The baseball cap comes off and he scratches his head.

I’m rushing to the house, trying to avoid an awkward moment once more. But I guess the fates or the gay universe have other plans for me.

“Hey Si?” My dad calls out, his hand in his hair as he awkwardly waits for me to respond.

“Yeah?” I reply, sighing as I drop my bag at the door to the house and walking towards him, my hands shoved deep into the pockets of my denim jacket to hide my nerves.

“Can you give me a hand? I forgot how much we put out each year,” he states, looking down at all the boxes at our feet.

“Sure,” I answer, hunching down to lift the first box. Dad does the same and together we walk into the garage with the decorations, placing them against the wall, in the same space they’ve been in since I can remember helping decorate the outside of the house.

We make a second trip and are just about to start the third when dad stops me from lifting a box with a hand on my bicep.

“How long have you known?” He asks, his voice quiet and his eyes staring into mine, like he’s watching for something, searching for something.

I sigh, rubbing a hand through my constant bed head.

“Like, I really started getting it when I was around... thirteen?” I answer, squinting as I try to not think about Daniel Radcliffe and Brendon Urie. I do not want to be thinking of my Sexual Awakening when I’m talking to dad.

“Four years?” he gasps, throwing his eyes to heaven. “Four years of... eating dinner together; four years of going to movies together. Four years of walking Bieber together.”

Dad’s voice is getting heavy, and he’s already rubbing at his eyes.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have missed it.” His

His voice starts cracking.

“No. Hey, no. Dad”

“All those stupid jokes,” he adds as an afterthought, looking to the side as he pushes that comment away, the regretful so strong in his words.

“Well I know you didn’t mean ‘em,” I state strongly, stepping towards him, but my arms crossed over my chest.

“It doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have missed it.” He’s looking at me, so much love in his eyes that I just don’t know how to act. “But, in case the message got lost somewhere I just...,” and he takes a deep breath and he’s looking at me, like looking at me as if he’s finally seeing me, “I just want you to know that I love you,” he states, sentiment and love and truth filling every pause he makes, even as the tears start to fall.

“And I’m really proud of you. I wouldn’t change anything about you.”

And I’m smiling, with my dad, for the first time in weeks.

“Hey, shit dad, hey. Stop crying,” I say, words tinged with laughter. He has his hands raised as he flaps the cap at his face, trying to stop more tears.

“I’m trying, I’m trying,” his voice broken, he sniffles and turns away for a second as he wipes at his face. “Oh God.”

And then he’s smiling at me too and he raises his hands and takes a step towards me.

“Come here,” he instructs, and his arms are around me and it’s the best hug of my freaking life. I’m squeezing him so hard and feeling him squeeze back just as good as he kisses the side of my head and this feels fucking glorious.

We’re laughing as we break, and it’s the male awkwardness that takes the place of all the feelings as we stand there laughing.

“How’s that video coming?” I ask, breaking the tension, and he nods his head.

“Good, good.”

“Good,” I say, my hands on my hips as I look at him with a smirk on my face, “You don’t know how to export it, do you?”

Dad quickly responds, almost speaking over my words, a genuine look of fear on his face as he thinks more into using technology.

“Can you help me with that?”

I laugh, my smile wide, all my teeth on show as I nod, “Yeah.”

The door opens, and Mom’s head appears around the door, “Jack, Si, dinner’s ready!”

I turn and smile at her, as Dad calls out, “Coming!”

Mom and I share a look, and I convey all my joy with a look to her. She smiles, her eyes crinkling as she looks at the pair of us. She nods and then closes the door.

“Okay, let’s go,” Dad says, throwing an arm over my shoulder. He kisses the top of head as we head for the door.

“Hey, I thought we could sign up for Grindr together,” He tells me, letting me go as he walks to the door.

“You don’t know what Grindr is, do you?” I ask, my hands instantly finding their way back into my jacket pockets.

“Yeah? It’s Facebook for gay people.”

“Not what it is.”

 

* * *

After Nora’s amazing feast, celebrating 20 years of my parents happy marriage, Dad and I disappear to his study to get the video finalized and exported for the family viewing. It’s stunning and pretty and what I want to have in my life. After some awkward comments from Dad, I plead the need to go over script notes and homework before heading up the stairs to my room.

I throw myself onto my bed, into the comfort of my duvet and blankets and pillows. I smile and sigh contentedly. It’s been a freaking amazing day. I met Blue. I _kissed_ Blue! And my Dad and I have talked it all out, sorted out all the tension between us. Perfect freaking day.

Thinking of Blue, of Bram, reminds me of the email I have waiting for me. 

 

> _From: bluegreen118@gmail.com_
> 
> _To: frommywindow1@gmail.com_
> 
> _Date: January 16 th  7:17pm _
> 
> _Subject: Because Coming Out Isn’t So Bad..._
> 
> _... when I end up making out with the guy of my dreams._
> 
> _Today has been the perfect day. I am on cloud 9. And I don’t want it to end._
> 
> _I’m going to be working on homework until 9, but I’ll be up for a while._
> 
> _Call me maybe?_
> 
> _Love,_
> 
> _~~Blue~~ Bram _
> 
> _P.S. I can still feel your lips on mine._
> 
> _P.P.S. I have so much I want to talk to you about. But I also just want to spend any and all time with you. Even in perfect silence. You’re my guy._
> 
> _P.P.P.S Sorry for all the postscripts, but I also had to send_ [ _this_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=40&v=Ga005q-6WK4) _to you too. Just covers all my feelings at this very moment._

 

I click the link, and I’m so surprised that it’s a country song that he’s sent me. But as the lyrics play, as the voice washes over me, it all sorta makes sense as to why he has sent me it.

 _This could be one of those memories_  
_We wanna hold on to, cling to_  
_The one we can't forget_  
_Baby, this could be our last first kiss_

Freaking Blue.

Freaking Cute Bram Greenfeld, with the soccer calves and amazing singing voice and kisses that make me shake with excitement. And now he’s sending me adorable emails, with Carly Rae Jepsen quotes and love song recommendations.

I honestly cannot cope.

“How am I gonna be able to sit in any room with you and not want to kiss you?” I whisper to my phone as the song finishes playing. 

 

> _From: frommywindow1@gmail.com_
> 
> _To: bluegreen118@gmail.com_
> 
> _Date: January 16_ _th_ _8:02pm_
> 
> _Subject: Re Because Coming Out Isn’t So Bad..._
> 
> _Oh boy._
> 
> _How gay are we, when we’re sending each other emails with Carly Rae lyrics and love songs?_
> 
> _But yes, I’ll be calling you around 9:30 so be ready._
> 
> _Also, all those notes._
> 
> _And yes, coming out is so much better when I’m kissing you._
> 
> _Enjoy_ [ _this_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SFGvmrJ5rjM) _._
> 
> _Love,_
> 
> _Simon._
> 
> _P.S. I just had an awesome talk with my dad. The Spier family is gonna be alright._
> 
> _P.P.S. I actually have homework to do, so I will actually be offline for the next hour and a half._

 

And I close all apps, except for Spotify and select the playlist that is symbolised by just the blue love heart emoji.

I select the track that I just sent to Bram and put the playlist on shuffle and let the music play as I grab my school stuff and start working.

 _Be my friend, hold me_  
_Wrap me up, unfold me_  
_I am small, I'm needy_  
_Warm me up and breathe me_

 

* * *

It’s actually closer to a twenty to ten when I’m all finished up with my homework and settled into bed, under the covers for the night.

I’ve the playlist playing from my laptop now, as I sit up under the covers and select the contact. I’m tempted to change the contact details to include a blue heart or something, but I’ll leave that for when I’m sure we are definitely gonna be something.

But the call is waiting connection and I’m getting all anxious. Thankfully he answers before it gets to be too much.

“Hey you,” I whisper, smiling even though he can’t see me.

“Hey,” he replies, his voice so deep it sends shivers down my spine. What this boy does to me. Jeez.

“How’d the rest of your Tuesday go?”

I hear him shuffling, getting comfy before he responds.

“It was good. Mom was okay with my being late, dinner was excellent, and the homework wasn’t too much of a task. How was yours?”

“Pretty excellent actually. Nora made taco’s, but changed up the recipe for the filling. Something Italian sounding, but it was incredible. You should try her cooking. Dad and I had an awesome conversation, really cleared the air that’s been stifling since Christmas. It’s actually my parent’s twentieth wedding anniversary today so I’ve been helping Dad with a video project to celebrate. Came out really well. Oh! And I might actually, maybe, possibly getting a boyfriend any day soon. So yeah, excellent Tuesday.”

I need to work on breathing between sentences.

“Action packed Tuesday for the one who hears! Congrats to Mr. And Mrs. Spier. But I think the important part of all that,” he starts, taking a breath before continuing, “is the possible boyfriend.”

“Yeah, that’s definitely the important part. I mean, I dunno if that’s something he’d be okay with. But it’s sorta been all I can think about for months now.”

“I think it’s safe to say he’d be down with it, Si.”

I can hear his smile through the call. All perfect teeth and Cheshire grin.

“So, that’s a yes then?”

“It’s a yes. Maybe not a Facebook yes though. Is it alright if we keep just for us for the time being. I only just got you. I want to keep you.”

“I’m all yours, Blue. You’ve nothing to worry about there.”

 

* * *

The next day comes with so much freaking excitement that I think I scare my family. Mom even comments that something good must be happening today.

“Just had a great nights sleep,” I comment, a throw away line to push them off the trail.

I eat the porridge that Nora’s made, another twist on a classic, and chug a glass of orange juice. It’s so nice to be able to hang around with my family again, now that all the tension between me and my dad is broken.

I tell the family goodbye, grab my stuff and head out to the car.

I instantly call Bram, knowing he’s gonna be waiting for me on the drive in this morning. During our call last night, we talked about how we’re gonna act during school. He’s not ready to be out out yet, but he’s not going back in the closet either. He’s gonna be with me, and if anyone asks, he’s not gonna deny a thing.

So I call Bram to tell him I’m on my way and to get his coffee order for when I pick him and Garrett up.

“I’m iced coffee with milk please. Garrett is still all about the Mocha with an extra whipped cream.”

“Perfect,” I say, checking the road before I reverse out into traffic.

“Garrett knows, by the way.”

“Oh. How’d that go?”

Bram laughs, sending shivers down my spine, “It went well. He was glad you’d finally put it all together. He said he was gonna just have to tell you himself if you didn’t catch up by my birthday.”

I laugh too, because his argument is very fair.

“Well, I’m comin’ up to Dancing Goats now. I’ll be at yours in 15 minutes or so.”

“See you soon, Si.”

“Bye,” I smile through the phone, the happiness radiating off each letter as I say it.

I follow the short queue of 2 cars into the drive through area. I place my order and wait for the handover. A couple of minutes later I’ve paid and got my drinks all set up and I’m heading back on the road.

I arrive at Bram’s to find him and Garrett deep in conversation. And by conversation, I mean that Garrett seems to be taking the piss out of him and Bram is just blushing and shoving him away. I wave at them when I park up beside them and it comes across as more awkward than originally intended.

Garrett shoves him one final time and they laugh as they walk towards me.

I lift the drinks holder as Bram opens the door and takes a seat beside me. My face is gonna split open soon, if I keep smiling like this. It’s crazy what this boy does to me.

“Hey,” I whisper.

“Hi Si,” he says, confidently and clearly and he’s learning towards me and kissing me, and it’s not a peck but it’s nothing like the kiss we shared last night. It’s just comfortable and confidant and brilliant.

Garrett is coughing and clearing his throat and Bram pulls back, taking the drinks tray from me and passing Garrett his Mocha.

“Shut up. Take your excessively sweet drink and stay quiet.”

“But Bram, I’m just so pleased for your guys. I mean, I really did enjoy the game of playing wingman and clue-supplier, but it was getting very boring a lot quicker than expected. So I wanna celebrate this happy coupling! Especially when my best friend is so so happy,” Garrett is bouncing in his seat and slapping the back of Bram’s seat with his free hand.

"You’re so strange, man. Why do I hang around with you again?”

“Because nobody else was gonna deal with your quiet ass in freshman year. And because of soccer, dude. The beautiful game.”

“Okay. I think I’ve heard enough straight bro-isms this morning. Time for school.”

I put the care in drive, take another drink of my coffee and we’re heading in the direction of the school.

 

* * *

The morning was alright. No bullshit from the other kids, and Bram and I just kept throwing each other stupid smiles and happy looks throughout the classes that we shared. I fear we are getting too obvious for Bram’s liking, but he’s taking part in it too, he’s reacting to me and egging me on and I just want to drag him from his seat into the empty corridors and kiss him.

So, at lunch, that’s what I do. We end up in the dressing room of the theatre and we are losing our breathe as we kiss and kiss and kiss. And I’ve lost my jacket and my hoodie somehow and my hands are up the back of Bram’s tee and his lips are devouring my neck and it’s actually so much better than attempting to keep down the Mystery Meat feast.

I’m groaning, my skin so itchy from the need to have him touching more of me, all of me, but I need to breathe.

I pull back and he groans at the loss of skin to kiss. I chuckle at his reaction and move back slightly, sitting on the stool at the dressing table.

“Whoa...,” I breathe out, running a hand through my hair that he has made stand on end.

“Yeah. Why’d you stop?” He asks, sitting on the counter top to my left.

“Because, if I hadn’t, passing out from lack of oxygen would have been a likely result,” I explain, taking a deep breath. My heart is still racing, beating so hard inside my chest.

“That’s very fair. So we take a couple of minutes, getting our breathing back to normal and then get back to the kissing? We only have twenty minutes left of lunch break.”

“Sure. In the mean time, something to eat?” I ask, pulling a packet of Oreos from the pocket of my hoodie.

“Ah, perfectly healthy lunch time snack,” he snarks at me, but still holds out his hand for one.

I tear open the packet and pass him two before munching on one myself.

We are sat in companionable silence when we hear it. A noise from backstage. Someone stampeding on the stage. We are only just able to get up to our feet when the door to the dressing room opens and it’s Nick and Abby stumbling through, arms around each other as they are lost in the moment of their own kiss.

Bram gasps, a loud enough noise that they hear it and instantly split apart.

“Oh.”

Abby has her hands behind her back as Nick is straightening out his jacket. Bram has gotten to his feet and grabbed my clothes from the floor.

“Hey, Bram... hi Simon,” Abby states, quietly, as she glances at Nick with a confused look.

“Hi there,” I say, pulling the hoodie over my head as I stand again. Bram then hands me my denim jacket and I’m finally fully clothed again.

“What are you guys doing here?” Nick asks, looking at the both of us and then Abby with a quizzical look.

“Just hanging out. Si here didn’t wanna share his Oreos with anyone,” Bram says, how did he come up with the white lie so quickly? Like, I was caught like a Guppy fish, my mouth just automatically opening and closing.

“That makes total sense,” Abby responds, shaking her head at Nick as we just stand there.

The silence takes hold of us. All awkward and powerful and I cannot cope with it. I feel like I should just blurt out some utter nonsense to the group. But I don’t, ‘cause Bram is leading me from the area and out back towards the theatre.

“Well, we’re gonna go,” Bram starts, his hand in mine as we walk past the other couple.

“Okay, see you in English guys..” Nick states, looking even more confused, his eyes glued to our joined hands.

We make it out into the theatre and I’m taking a deep breath for a different reason.

“Well that was... different.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The scene between Simon and his dad was another one that I didn’t want to mess with from the film. 
> 
> Chapter Title: Heaven - Troye Sivan feat. Betty Who
> 
> Tracks Used:  
> Sweet Lovin' - Sigala feat. Bryn Christopher  
> History In The Making - Darius Rucker  
> Breathe Me - Sia


End file.
